


white lightning

by hereyeswerestars



Category: Batman (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, doctor!pamela, lesbians get a happy ending!, literally the slowest, mutual unrequited pining, pamela is black, stripper!harley, sugardaddy!pamela
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereyeswerestars/pseuds/hereyeswerestars
Summary: the harley/pamela sugar daddy au nobody asked for but everybody wants . (at least me) harley is a dancer at a shady strip club which Jack Napier, her boyfriend/boss runs. Pamela Isley is a wealthy doctor in need of a social life . they both have issues , and this fic is not for the light-hearted . inspired heavily by lana del rey’s sad girl aesthetic .note : this story is unbeta’d so my apologies for any errors :) ( if you’d like to beta , let me know ;)TRIGGER WARNING :abusive relationship between harley n jack (joker) , drug use , non-con , emotional manipulation . read at ur own risk n stay safe :)





	1. burnt waffles and broken hearts

“there’s no use in talking to people who have a home  
they have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people  
for home to be wherever you lie your head.” - lana del rey

 

A blonde twenty-two year old sat before her mirror in the “employee’s only” section of Gotham’s Finest, a classy bar merged with a trashy strip joint. Blue eyes glared at their reflection, and the girl grabbed a makeup bag marked “Harleen” and rifled through it. The dark circles under her eyes hadn’t budged for weeks, and new bruises seemed to appear every night. She bit her pink lips and prayed to a God she didn’t believe in. Christ, she had to cover up these bruises. Jack had said some friend of Bruce Wayne’s was coming tonight, and the last thing she needed was Bruce on her ass about her situation.

Harley poured a dollop of foundation onto her palm and started rubbing it into her various bruises, wincing. Jack had wanted to try asphyxiation last night, claiming it was the only way he could get off, and Harley had passed out, only to wake up to multiple bruises and an empty bed.

It was fine, she told herself. Jack took good care of her, better than anyone else had done. He could do whatever he wanted to her, and she would be grateful.

She assessed herself in the mirror. The bruises had faded, but if you squinted… Harley groaned and stood up. Fuck it, all she wanted was to be held and kissed until she forgot all the shit in her life, was that too much to ask? But she looked at herself in the mirror and knew she could never have that. Delinquents who turn to stripping at seventeen don’t get nice things.

She changed into her costume, pulling her blonde hair into Jack’s favorite pigtails. Then she sprayed blue and pink on the tips, just like Jack liked. The door swung open, and Harley whirled around.

“Jack!” she squealed, dropping her hairspray and bounding over to him. He frowned at her. “I told you red and black, not pink and blue.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Puddin’,” she murmured, looking down. “Annie told me--”

She was cut off by a sharp pain on her cheek and as she raised a hand to her face she realized Jack had slapped her. “Baby? I don’t--”

“Shut up,” Jack snarled, suddenly centimeters away from Harley. He smelled like alcohol and blood, and Harley took an involuntary step back.

“You’re gonna perform now, do a few lap dances, and then we’re out of here. Get it? I don’t need no fucking Bruce Wayne up in my business.”

He stormed out, leaving Harley gaping at him, hand pressed to her cheek and tears welling in her eyes. She turned to her makeup bag and pulled out two colorful pills, downing them and blinking away tears.

 

***

 

People said Harley danced like an angel. Others like a devil. There certainly was an air of mystery and other worldliness as she danced, but those people were wrong. She danced like she was flying. It was the only time she felt free. Away from the drugs, away from the alcohol, and though she’d never admit it, away from Jack. But she wouldn’t have this job without him, so she shoved her thoughts away and trailed her fingers down her breasts, sliding down her stomach. She looked up, batting her eyelashes, and the men watching screamed vulgar encouragements. She opened her mouth, shaking her head. Innocence was an act Jack loved, and he fucked her especially hard whenever she performed it. He got off on the knowledge that she once had been innocent, and he had almost single-handedly corrupted her.

Harley turned and started walking away, her audience protesting loudly. But then she glided over to the pole center stage, and the cheering started anew.

Harley loved dancing, but tonight her mind wasn’t into it. Thoughts of Jack, how he had said they were leaving to go on a road trip, filled her mind. She swayed and rolled her body, caressing the pole and then spinning around it, her body following the pattern it had so many times before that she didn’t even realize she was falling until she hit the stage floor with a sickening crack. Her music continued on, ridiculously cheery, and Harley tried to get up but collapsed. Her ankle had twisted in her high heel, pain pulsing up her leg, and all she could hear was her fickle audience now laughing at her. Suddenly, a woman leapt up onto the stage, and impressive feat in a bodycon dress.

“Let me see,” she murmured, reaching for Harley’s leg. Harley whimpered and shook her head. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she said, voice deep and unexplainably soothing. Brown hands reached up to brush tears from Harley’s pale cheeks. “I’m a doctor, I can help--”

A voice Harley knew too well interrupted the beautiful woman. “What the fuck is going on here?” Jack demanded, storming up to them.

“Your dancer twisted her ankle. I can take her to the hospital, she needs medical help.”

Jack cursed under his breath. “I thought I told you to do your fucking best! What does that mean to you, twisting your goddamn ankle? Fuck it Harley, go with the nice lady, and then stay at my apartment. I have to meet George.”

He crouched down and reached for her face. Harley flinched, but he just grabbed her chin, kissing her viciously. He broke it off after a heady beat, and Harley blinked. She could have sworn Jack was standing before her, but now he was gone, and another dancer had entered the stage and handed the strange woman a wad of bills, which she refused.

“Jack’s orders, ma’am. Please just take the money, he’s always watching. Harley can tell you their apartment address, he wants her there as soon as you’re done at the hospital.”

The woman nodded, brow furrowing, and tucked the money into a pocket Harley hadn’t seen on her dress.

“I had it modified to include pockets,” the woman said, noticing Harley’s gaze. “You’d think women can’t have things to carry around.”

Harley stared at her, the pain in her ankle making it hard to focus.

“Let’s get you to urgent care. Can you walk?”

Harley tried to get on her hands and knees, but the moment she moved her leg she gasped. Her ankle felt like it was on fire, and she looked up at the woman and shook her head.

“Okay, I’ll carry you.” Harley was sure she hadn’t heard the woman right, but suddenly strong arms were around her and she was lifted into the air, pulled into a tight embrace. She nestled her head against a smooth shoulder and closed her eyes. This Amazonian goddess could take her wherever she pleased because Harley couldn’t think anymore.

 

Harley woke up, groaning. Her head hurt, her mouth tasted like a rat had crawled in and died there, and her ankle – Harley sat up, gasping as her ears rang. She was in a twin sized bed with a fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around her, but her left foot was wrapped and elevated on a few pillows.

“The fuck,” Harley croaked. She looked around, noting she was in a small, well-lit room with a nightstand, wardrobe, and desk. It was definitely not Jack’s apartment, and she felt fear rise like bile up her throat. All she remembered was falling, and then a woman with fiery-red hair and brown skin holding her in her arms.

She shoved the blanket off her, revealing that she was no longer in her skimpy costume but a soft flannel and pajama shorts that were not hers. Okay, something was up. She swung her right leg over the edge of the bed, then glared at her left. It didn’t hurt at the moment, but she didn’t know how much it would hurt when she moved it. She took a deep breath and moved her leg off the pillow. Nothing happened. She frowned and gently set it next to her right leg. No pain. Harley breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, leaning heavily on her right leg. She cautiously stepped forward on her left leg, not leaning her full weight on it. There was a dull ache, but it was nothing compared to the vicious pain she had experienced last night. She made her way carefully to the door, then stepped on something strangely soft and fluffy. It yowled and swiped at her leg, and Harley cried out and lost her balance, falling heavily on her side.

She gaped at the fluffy black cat before her, yellow eyes narrowed. “Sorry,” she breathed, offering her hand as a peace offering. The cat hissed and raced under the bed just as the door opened. The woman from last night stood in leggings and a tank top, showing off her incredible body, and a million thoughts raced through Harley’s head.

“You… what happened last night?” Harley asked, voice raspy.

“I took you to the hospital and then back to my apartment. The man you’re living with doesn’t seem very nice.” Harley bristled. The woman ignored her and went on, “Why the hell are you on the floor?”

“I tripped on yer cat,” Harley muttered, feeling a blush color her cheeks. Here she was, casually lying on the floor in a stranger’s pajamas while said beautiful stranger watched her with warm brown eyes that Harley suddenly wanted to drown in. She looked down, rubbing her forehead.

“Oh, Nightshade? Sorry, she can be a brat. Jesus, did she scratch you?”

The woman crouched down beside Harley, setting a mug of steaming liquid down beside Harley. “Drink that,” she ordered, then touched Harley’s calf with cool hands. Harley grabbed the mug – noticing it had two cats with their tails entwined to form a heart imprinted on it – and gulped it down, then immediately spat it out.

“Holy fuck, what is that?” she exclaimed, gaping at her.  
“It’s tea. It will help with energy and will detox your body. It’s hot.”

“No shit,” Harley muttered, setting the mug down.

The woman squeezed Harley’s leg gently, frowning. “Language.”

“You just cussed like two seconds ago,” Harley replied, crossing her arms.

The woman shrugged. “My house, my rules. Stay here, I’m going to get bandages.”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Harley said cheekily. The woman raised her eyebrows and stood up, turning to the door.

“Oh, I’m Pamela,” she said, and then she was gone. Pamela, Harley thought. Pretty name. She glanced at her calf, realizing the cat had fucking scratched her, and watched the trail of blood as it dripped down her leg to her wrapped ankle.

The beautiful woman – Pamela, Harley corrected herself – came back, holding a first aid kit. “I thought I told you to drink your tea,” she said, glancing at the full mug.

“It’s hot,” Harley whined. But she picked it up and dipped her finger in the opaque liquid, then licked her finger and crinkled her nose. She sucked the taste from her fingertip, then looked up and saw Pamela watching her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Staring is creepy,” Harley said, taking her finger out of her mouth.

“So is sucking on your fingers,” Pamela retorted. She opened the first aid kit, retrieved some wipes, and dabbed at the blood running down Harley’s leg. Harley hissed when Pamela touched the scratches, and Pamela held her leg tighter.

“I’m almost done,” she said in her alto voice, and Harley knew she was going to hell for thinking her situation was incredibly hot. She grabbed the mug of nasty tea to distract herself and cautiously took another sip. It still tasted as gross as the first time, but now she had something to think about that wasn’t Pamela’s strong hands caressing her leg. She took another sip, groaning at the taste, and Pamela stood up abruptly.

“You’re good now,” she said, holding out her hand. “Come on, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Harley let Pamela pull her up, then leaned a little more heavily than she should have on Pamela’s muscled arm. Pamela lead her to a modernized kitchen, all grays and whites and gold accents, and Harley whistled appreciatively. Pamela led her to a round kitchen table and made sure Harley was seated comfortably, leg propped up on another chair and tea before her, then began rummaging through cabinets. Opera music floated from hidden speakers, and Harley watched Pamela as she grabbed ingredients from the fridge and thought that she had never been happier. Jack would never do this--

Harley shook her head. Jack wasn’t here, and she didn’t want to deal with that part of her life at the moment. Or ever. She turned her attention back to Pamela and realized the gorgeous woman was staring at her.

“You okay?” she asked, concern in her elegant features.

“Jus’ tired,” Harley lied. She felt more energetic than she had in weeks, and she didn’t want to think about why. “Whatcha makin’?” she asked, mainly to avoid conversation about herself.

“Waffles okay?”

“Waffles are more than okay,” Harley beamed. “They’re my second favorite food.”  
“What’s your first favorite food?”

“Ice cream,” Harley said without a second thought, thinking back to when she and Jack would have ice cream on Coney Island and walk on the pier, where they could talk about everything and nothing and life was perfect.

“Lucky you, I have ice cream in the freezer.”

“Lucky me,” Harley said, face falling. “But I can’t stay.” She set her tea down – she was getting used to the queer taste – and tried to stand up. Her ankle had started throbbing again, and she could barely put pressure on it before her leg gave out. Pamela rushed to her side, helping her sit back down and prop her leg up again.

“Harley, no. You don’t have anywhere else to go, you’re injured, you’re hungover, and Jack’s apartment is not the place for you right now.”

The blonde only registered one part of Pamela’s sentence. “I ain’t hungover,” she protested. “I didn’t have anything to drink all day yesterday.”

Pamela pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, leaning forwards with her elbows on her thighs. “I ran some tests on you at the hospital, you had cocaine, marijuana, and some other compound we couldn’t name in your system. They created a cocktail that knocked you out, and you’re probably still feeling the effects. You can’t do this to your body, Harl.”

Harley had never heard that nickname before, and she smiled sadly. “I need it to get through the day, Pam.” She looked away from the other woman, not able to handle the sorrow in her eyes. “Your waffles are burning.”

“Da – dangit,” Pamela said, rushing over to the counter, where smoke was rising from an ancient-looking waffle maker.

Harley snorted and watched, smirking, as Pamela used tongs to extract the half-burned waffles, an expression of utter dismay on her face.

“You can swear aroun’ me, I’m used to it.”

Pamela looked at her and sighed, “Fucking shit,” with no expression on her face.

Harley burst out laughing, and Pamela soon joined her. “Well, you can try to eat them, but I don’t know how they’ll turn out. Let me grab you some cereal, and then I have to head to work.”

“Wait, what?” Harley didn’t know what she expected to do today, but she had subconsciously hoped to spend it with Pamela. “Are you gonna drop m’off at Jack’s then?”

“No, you aren’t going anywhere near that place alone. I drove past after you were asleep, and there were a bunch of thugs standing around with baseball bats. There is no way I’d leave you there, not for all the threatening in the world.”

“They threatened you?” Harley demanded, sitting up. Pamela set a plate of blackened waffles in front of Harley and shrugged.

“They yelled something about their dicks, but I kicked their asses easily enough.”

Harley choked on her waffles. “Jack’ll kill ya,” she exclaimed, fear in her eyes.

“He can try,” Pamela replied, a gleam in her eyes that made Harley both afraid and turned on. “Okay, I have to head to work, so you can eat and then take a nap, or read, or watch TV. I have Netflix and HBO.”

Harley frowned, stroking her chin and pretending to think. “I’ll take option Netflix,” she said, grinning.

“Okay, let me help you to the couch.” Before Harley could protest, Pamela had swept her up into her arms and brought her to a spacious living room, a beige couch positioned in front of a huge TV.

“This is the biggest goddamn TV I’ve ever seen,” Harley breathed, mouth agape. Pamela squeezed her shoulder and a small smile lifted her lips. She grabbed Harley’s plate of waffles, a carton of organic mint chip ice cream, Cheerios and a baggie of pain pills – not enough to overdose, Harley noticed.

“You all set here?” Pamela asked, pulling on a leather jacket.

“Damn.” Harley said, then flushed bright red. “I mean, yeah, I’m great. Thanks, Pam.”

“Of course, Harley. Oh, I almost forgot!” Pamela moved farther into the apartment and returned with Harley’s costume and phone. “I charged your phone last night, and your costume is washed and performance-ready.”

“Aw man, thank you!” Harley grinned, taking her phone. She noticed immediately that Jack had called her multiple times, but she kept her expression neutral. “Alright, I’ll be here. When do you get off work?”

“It’s nine now, and my shift goes until 3. So we can talk more when I get back, okay?”

Harley nodded and grabbed another piece of waffle. “See ya Pammy.”

Pamela ducked her head, and Harley swore she saw a broad smile on her face before she turned away. “Bye, Harley. Don’t do anything illegal while I’m gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and i’ll give you a beautiful word :)


	2. chocolate-kissed bruises

"i was always an unusual girl  
my mother told me that I had a chameleon soul  
no moral compass pointing me due north  
no fixed personality  
just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean  
and if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying." - lana del rey

 

 

     Harley laughed – she was pretty sure her being happy was illegal. She watched as Pamela left, heard her shut and lock the door, and then turned on the TV. She looked through Netflix for a while before deciding on Jessica Jones.

 

     “Fuck yeah female superheroes,” she muttered, grabbing the carton of ice cream. she ‘d have to pay Pamela back somehow for all her kindness, but with what? Harley settled into the first episode, watching the badass Jessica with awe. She watched the entire episode before she started to feel anxious, and reached for her bag. It wasn’t there. She swore under her breath. Of course her bag was back at Gotham’s Finest, all her stuff was. “Okay Harley, you’ll just have to deal with feelings the normal way. No drugs.” she sighed and grabbed her phone. Jack had called her three times and left one message. She held her breath and pressed play, holding the phone to her ear.

 

     Jack’s buttery voice surrounded her as he began to speak. “Hey, Harley, are you okay? i ‘m with George now, probably will be for a couple more days at least. Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left you like that, and what with hitting you… God, I feel horrible. Just call me back and let me know you’re okay, alright?”

 

     The message ended with a click, and Harley sat frozen, still holding the phone to her ear. “Baby,” she murmured, and called her lover back. It rang and rang, and Harley sighed frustratedly, then realized it was only ten am., and Jack was probably fast asleep. She called again and left a quick message: “Hiya Puddin’, don’t worry about me! I’m doin’ jus’ fine, hangin’ with friends for th’ day. Love ya!”

 

     Harley tapped her screen to end the voicemail and noticed a new text from Pamela. She furrowed her brow in confusion and opened the message.

 

      **Pamela:** Hi Harley, It’s Pamela. I put my number in your phone in case you need anything. How’s your day going?

 

     Harley smiled, then covered her mouth with her hand. She shouldn’t be smiling, she shouldn’t even be here! She should be in Jack’s apartment, cleaning and preparing it for his return. He always got upset when his trash wasn’t picked up--

 

**Pamela:** You better not be moping. You deserve a day off, darling.

 

     Darling? Harley exhaled heavily. She was so fucked. She agonized over what to send before deciding on simple and cute. Well, maybe cute. Depends on how much Pamela loves her ice cream.

 

**Harley:** hi pammy , im fine ! ate all ur ice cream ;)

 

     She stared at the screen for a heartbeat, then sighed and stretched, yawning loudly. She should probably sleep more, but as she looked around the apartment, an idea formed in her mind. She stood up carefully, trying not to put any weight on her left foot, and grinned. Pamela seemed wonderful, but what was she hiding? Nice people always hurt Harley the most, and she wanted to be prepared.

 

     First she went to the side of the apartment she hadn’t explored, and found a bathroom. She looked through the cabinets, but only found a plastic bag full of bags, (why do all adults do this?) cleaning supplies, and makeup. Then she opened the door to what she assumed was Pamela’s bedroom. She gasped as she entered it-- it was not what she expected. Plants were everywhere, ivy was creeping up the ceiling, and the walls and ceiling were painted to resemble a forest.

 

     “Holy….” Harley stared at the room, awestruck. She felt something soft touch her leg and yelped, but it was only the demon-cat. “Jesus Christ you scared me,” Harley snapped, glaring at the cat. It rubbed against her bare legs, purring loudly. Harley sighed and limped towards the nightstand, sitting carefully on the edge of the emerald bed. She felt a little bad about going through Pamela’s stuff, but only a title. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. The black cat meowed at Harley, and she grinned and opened the first drawer. A book on plants, lube, and a dildo.

 

     Harley slammed the drawer shut, cheeks flaming. She did not need to see that, or think about Pamela, stretched out naked on her huge bed, using that dildo so effectively…  
   

     “Stop, Harley,” she told herself, standing up shakily. She frowned and looked around the rest of the room. There was a closet, full of dark-colored business suits, blue scrubs, and a wheelchair. Harley grinned. She had no idea why the perfectly able-bodied Pamela would have a wheelchair stuffed in her closet, but for right now it worked. She wobbled towards it and pulled it out of the closet, then flopped into it gratefully. She wheeled around the room for a few minutes, relishing in the ability to move freely without pain. It seemed like a pretty expensive chair, with a touchpad on one side with arrows pointing in different directions. After figuring out how to propel herself, she went back to exploring.

 

     There was a bookshelf she hadn’t noticed before, half swallowed up by roses, and she examined it curiously. Most of them seemed to be about plants, and nearly all of them seemed to be written by women. Harley smiled and then noticed one by Pamela Isley. She pulled it off the shelf, intrigued. Pamela had never told her her last name, but she certainly seemed smart enough to write a book. She flipped to the back and found the author biography, along with a black and white picture of her Pamela. She grinned and set it in her lap, then rolled back to her spot on the couch. She carefully maneuvered the wheelchair next to the couch, crashing into it several times, and then finally dragged herself out of the chair and onto the couch, sprawling on her stomach with her left leg elevated on a stack of pillows. She grabbed her phone and smiled when she saw a text.

 

**Pamela:** That’s okay, I can pick up more on my way back. What’s your favorite flavor?

 

**Harley:** anything u like :) but does it have to be organic ?

 

     She smiled to herself and opened Pamela’s book. Pamela’s writing style was entertaining, yet assertive, and Harley liked her more with each word she read. This book was about how plants can be used to cure cancer, and Harley felt an inexplicable surge of pride at how incredible Pamela was. She had finished the first chapter when her phone buzzed.

 

**Pamela:** Organic is better for you, darling. Chocolate okay?

 

**Harley:** fiiine u health nut :/

 

**Harley:** chocolate is always okay ;)

 

     She put her phone down by her side, happiness flooding her chest when Pamela responded with a “there’s nothing nutty about me, honey.” Harley made it halfway through the book before her stomach began to growl. She glanced at her phone, shocked when she saw it was already one o’ clock. She set Pamela’s book down, using a blanket as a bookmark, and grabbed her phone.

 

**Harley:** i’m starvinggg do u have any food ?

 

     She stood carefully and stretched, rolling her neck, then sat back into the wheelchair and headed to the kitchen, phone in hand.

 

**Pamela:** There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge, and ingredients to make a smoothie, is that okay?

 

     Harley moved in front of the fridge, grabbing the takeout box and frowning at the refrigerator.

 

**Harley:** why r u so healthy it’s kinda gross

 

**Pamela:** The women I take home usually don’t think that. ;)

 

     Harley nearly dropped her phone. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. Pamela was a lesbian? This excited her more than it should, and as she waited for the microwave to warm up her fried rice and wantons she wheeled around in circles, giggling.

 

     She stared at her phone, unsure if she was supposed to respond to Pamela’s last text, when a loud meowing startled her. She glanced down at her feet to see the black cat – Night something?-glaring at her.

 

     “My food,” Harley snapped, taking her warmed-up food from the microwave and setting it on the table. She rummage through all the kitchen drawers until she found a fork (she can’t use chopsticks to save her life) and when she turned back to the table she saw the cat was eating her food.

 

     “Hey! That’s my food!” Harley exclaimed, rushing back to the table and snatching her takeout carton. The cat meowed pitifully, pawing at her, and Harley set the carton on the counter and whipped out her phone.

 

**Harley:** PAMELA HELP ME UR CAT IS EATING MY FOOD

 

     Eyes not leaving the cat’s, Harley chewed on a wanton, moaning at the burst of flavor. The black cat jumped off the table and curled itself around Harley’s legs, then began licking her wrapped ankle.

 

     “What is your problem?” Harley cried, pushing the cat away with her not-injured foot. It bit her toe the same time Harley’s phone buzzed, and Harley yanked her foot away and grabbed her phone.

 

**Pamela:** Oh sorry about that she likes Chinese food. Just give her some rice and she’ll be fine.

 

     Harley scooped up some rice and dropped it on the floor. The demon cat stopped trying to eat her and dove for the rice, and Harley scrambled to hold the takeout containers and phone in her lap while texting and wheeling away from the kitchen.

 

**Harley:** PAMELA SHES TRYING TO EAT ME

 

**Harley:** SEND HELP

 

     Harley took a picture of her bleeding toe and then a selfie of herself pouting and holding a wanton, sending both to Pamela.

 

**Pamela:** Oh my God she bit you? Harley I’m so sorry I’ll be home soon. Just tell her to fuck off and that I’ll be back soon.

 

     Harley stared at Pamela’s text, bewildered. She sincerely doubted the demon-cat could understand her, but it was worth a shot. She finished her wantons and rice and cautiously moved back into the kitchen. Demon-cat had finished the rice she had thrown and was watching her hungrily.

 

     “Pamela said to fuck off and she’ll be back soon,” Harley said, feeling like an idiot. The cat yawned and stalked off, tail high in the air. “What the fuck.”

 

     Harley shook her head and knew she had no idea what she was getting herself into. She wheeled back to the couch, and took the pain meds Pamela had left her dry, then stretched out on her stomach and reopened Pamela’s book. The idea of using a kind of genetically enhanced plant to cure cancer was fascinating, and Harley was enchanted by the way Pamela constructed her arguments both for and against the cure.

 

***

 

Something deafeningly loud was buzzing at Harley’s ear, and her eyes slowly opened. Her face was smushed against a book, the demon-cat was staring at her, an inch from her face, and someone was laughing. She pushed herself up into a kneeling position, yawning. Pamela was sitting on a kitchen chair across from her, low laughter pouring from her crimson lips. She had changed into leggings and a tank, and Harley shook herself to keep from staring at Pamela’s powerful shoulders and toned arms.

 

     “What’re ya laughin’ at?” she scowled, crossing her arms.

 

     Pamela cleared her throat. “You snore very cutely,” she smiled. “I brought more ice cream, do you want some?”

 

     Harley scrambled to her feet – or at least tried to. The moment her left foot touched the ground, she gasped in pain. The meds had worn off, and so had Jack’s special drugs. Pamela was at her side in an instant, easing her back onto the couch. “I grabbed a pair of crutches from work, but I see you already found my wheelchair.”

 

     Harley blushed. “I was jus’... exploring,” she said lamely.

 

     Pamela smirked. “Find anything else interesting?” she asked as she helped Harley into the wheelchair.

 

     Harley thought of the dildo in Pamela’s nightstand and swallowed nervously. “Um, I found a book ya wrote. It’s pretty interesting.”

 

     Pamela raised her eyebrows. “You like it?”

 

     “Aside from all the science-y plant shit, it’s really good,” Harley grinned toothily.

 

     “Well the science-y plant shit is what’s paying for your ice cream, so watch your mouth.”

 

     Harley parked at the kitchen table and rolled her eyes. “What ice cream?”

 

     “The one I’m gonna stick up your ass,” Pamela snapped, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. She set a bowl and spoon before Harley, then grabbed a tub of chocolate ice cream from the heap of plastic bags on the counter and set it before her.

 

     She murmured a thanks and started scooping. “I don’t think that would work, my ass is pretty tight,” she grinned.

 

     Pamela just looked at her, not dignifying the comment with a response. “So what did you do all day?” she asked eventually. “Besides snoop through my closet and drool on my book?”

 

     Harley stopped scooping to frown at Pamela. “I don’t drool, Jack’d kill me if I did,” she remarked, half-joking. But Pamela took it seriously.

 

     “Why are you with him?” she asked, dark arms propped on the counter.

 

     “I love ‘im, and ‘e loves me,” Harley replied. “All t’ girls say we make a great couple.”

 

     “And the bruises on your body say otherwise,” Pamela said softly.

 

     Harley’s cheeks warmed. “That’s nunya business.”

 

     Pamela pursed her lips but said nothing, and they sat in silence for a while, Harley devouring her ice cream and Pamela moving softly around the kitchen, putting away groceries.

 

     “I have a question,” Harley said suddenly, pointing at Pamela with a chocolate-covered spoon. “Actually, two questions.”

 

     “Ask away.” Pamela turned to Harley, brown eyes serious.

 

     “Why do you have a wheelchair hidin’ in yer closet?”

 

     Pamela smiled, a little sadly. “It’s a prototype of mine. An old friend had need of a wheelchair that would suit her, ah, unique lifestyle, so I made one for her. But she’s doing alright now, so I put it away for another time.”

 

     Harley nodded, contemplating the incredible woman before her who not only looked like Aphrodite incarnate, but had the mind of a genius.

 

     “What’s your second question?” Pamela asked, startling Harley from her silence.

 

     “What’s a beautiful, intelligent woman like yaself doin’ at a nasty place like _Gotham’s Finest?”_

 

     Whatever Pamela had expected Harley to ask it wasn’t that. She blinked slowly. “It was my birthday, so I was going to grab drinks to take out for me and my friends when a certain blonde needed my assistance. It’s alright, thirty-four isn’t exactly a spectacular milestone.”

 

     “Pammy!” Harley exclaimed, dropping her spoon into her now-empty bowl and gaping at her. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything? Birthdays are very important days!”

 

     Pamela rolled her eyes. “I had much better things to do—like making sure you didn’t lose your foot.”

 

     Harley scoffed. “Okay, that settles it. We’re goin’ out!” she wheeled towards the door, beaming. “Onwards, Pammy!”

 

     “Harley—what?” Pamela strode after Harley, moving in front of her. “You’re in no place to be going anywhere, you can barely walk! I told you it’s fine, we can stay here and--”

 

     “Pamela, as your friend it is my duty to make sure you have a great birthday. All you did yesterday was take care of me! That seems like a pretty shit birthday, so let me make it up to you. Please?”

 

     Pamela sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She furrowed her brow and stood like that for a moment, looking so conflicted Harley was about to relent and say it was perfectly fine to celebrate at Pamela’s apartment, when she opened her eyes and smiled. “Okay, we can go. But do you really want to go out in my pajamas?”

 

     Harley looked down and grimaced. “Do you have anything else I can borrow?” she asked, preferring not to go outside in a worn “save the trees” top and green pajama shorts.

 

     “I should, I think my friend left some clothes here last time she slept over…”

 

     Harley raised her brows.

 

     “Not like that, she has a boyfriend,” Pamela added, smiling wryly. “Go undress in the bathroom while I find something.”

 

     “At least buy me dinner first,” Harley snorted, pressing on the chair’s touchpad to glide backwards.

 

     “If I remember correctly I already bought you ice cream _and_ saved your ass,” Pamela said over her shoulder, already heading to her room. Harley shook her head, smiling, and carefully rolled into the bathroom, nearly running over demon-cat on the way. She hissed, so Harley flipped her off and hissed back. The black cat looked unimpressed, and Pamela found the two of them making a strange sight in the bathroom: Harley perched on a wheelchair, hissing at a tiny cat who gazed at her with bored eyes.

 

   “The fuck are you doing to my cat,” Pamela declared, setting a pile of clothes on the counter top.

     

     "Language,” Harley smirked. Nightshade blinked at Harley, then rubbed against the wheelchair, purring raucously.

 

     “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she cried, commanding the wheelchair backwards until it bumped into the tub.

     

     “Somebody needs a lesson in manners,” Pamela said imperiously, picking up Nightshade and arching a defined brow. Harley melted a little inside, but ignored the fluttering in her stomach and blew a kiss at Pamela.

 

     “Do you need help getting dressed?” she asked.

 

     “Oh—no, no thanks,” Harley said, her cheeks turning red. She looked away from Pamela and scratched at her neck awkwardly, thinking of how Pamela had already seen her naked when she took off her costume and changed her into pajamas and trying to maintain her dignity.

 

     “Okay, just don’t lock the door so I can rescue you if you fall over,” Pamela said.

 

     “I’m not gonna be the one falling over when I come out,” Harley grinned, glancing at the clothes.

 

 

     “There’s a few options, and some underwear. Don’t worry, it’s all clean,” Pamela added, a glint in her eyes that suggested something quite unclean. She walked out, closing the door behind her, and Harley took a deep breath.

 

     Okay, focus time. Let’s see what will most blow Pamela’s mind, she thought, grabbing the pile of clothes and searching through it. She found a pink bralette and matching lacy underwear, and her cheeks warmed again at the thought of Pamela seeing her in them.

 

     There was a t-shirt with a cat on it (boring) a pair of jeans, and a gold jumpsuit. Fuck yeah. She pulled the shirt she was wearing off and carefully shimmied out of the shorts.

 

     You can do this, she told herself, biting her lower lip as she looked down at her wrapped ankle. She hauled herself out of the wheelchair, using the counter for balance, and pulled on the pink lingerie. She looked in the mirror, but she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. The eyes that usually looked so hollow seemed _happy_. She had last night’s makeup under her eyes, her hair was a tangled mess, but she looked so much more alive than she had only twenty hours ago. She poked at the bruises on her neck and winced. Still tender. She pulled on the jumpsuit, marveling at the silky feel of it, and especially mindful of her left leg. Once it was on she looked at herself and grinned. The gold flattered her pale skin, the plunging neckline looked daring and chic, and--

 

     “It has POCKETS!” Harley shrieked, sliding her hands into full-sized pockets. She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt—dancing costumes _never_ had pockets. She looked at herself one last time, then rummaged through Pamela’s cabinets and stole a makeup wipe. Once she had wiped away all the flaky mascara and smeared highlight, she looked pretty good. Except for one thing. She frowned at her bruises. Even a child could tell they were distinctly finger-shaped, and she didn’t want to go out looking like a poster child for abuse. Her heart stuttered over the word— _was_ Jack abusing her? When a knock startled her from her thoughts.

“

     You okay?” Pamela asked, her clear voice easily penetrating the bathroom door and surrounding Harley like velvet.

 

 

     “Um, yeah, one second.” Harley hobbled over to the door and yanked it open, then froze. Pamela had changed too, and if she looked like a goddess in leggings and a tank she looked like the tastiest snack Harley had ever seen in a fitted emerald dress that went to her knees, with a gold belt complimenting Harley’s outfit.

 

     “I knew you’d pick the jumpsuit,” Pamela smiled. She had pulled her curly red hair into a high bun, and Harley gaped at her, not able to form words. Pamela looked like a queen, an angel, but none of those words fit quite right because Pamela looked like _Pamela_ , and there were no words to describe her ethereal beauty.

 

     “Um,” Harley began quite eloquently. She worried her lip, not sure how to ask, when Pamela noticed the bruises.

 

     “I have something for that, don’t worry,” she said kindly. “You can sit back down, you shouldn’t be standing at all.” she hunted through the cabinets, and Harley sat back onto the wheelchair with a sigh.

 

     “Doctor’s orders?” she inquired. She had guessed that Pamela was a doctor after seeing the scrubs in her closet, and after reading the extensive list of PhD's in everything from medical science to botany to neurology, she couldn’t believe Pamela had accomplished so much in thirty-four years.

 

     “Yes,” Pamela said, standing with a small container in her hands. “Hold still, this won’t hurt a bit,” she said in her best doctor voice.

 

     Harley cringed. “Please don’t ever say that again,” she begged.

 

     “We’ll see how you behave,” she replied with a wicked grin. She stood before Harley, eyes dropping from the blonde’s to the container in her hands. She squeezed a pale liquid onto her fingers and held it out for Harley to see.

 

     “This is a topical ointment I created to rapidly heal bruises. Is it okay if I put it on your neck?”

 

     Harley nodded quickly. She’d do anything to be relieved of the ugly marks Jack had left. Pamela pressed her fingers to the base of Harley’s neck, and she jumped.

 

     “Are you okay? Sometimes it stings a little bit,” Pamela said, forehead creasing with concern.

 

     “‘m fine, it’s jus’ cold,” Harley murmured. Then Pamela’s fingers started to move on her neck, gently rubbing at the bruises Jack had formed so rapaciously. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth together to keep from moaning. It felt so… _nice_ , so comforting, Harley felt like she could cry. But then the hands stopped, and she cracked one eye open. Pamela was watching her, a sad smile on her face. “All done,” she murmured, and patted Harley’s leg before standing and setting the ointment on the counter. “You ready?”  
Harley beamed. “Let’s go kick ass and take names.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment & i'll give you a beautiful word ♡


	3. dancing with you...nicorns

"i was born to be the other woman   
who belonged to no one   
who belonged to everyone   
who had nothing   
who wanted everything   
with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it   
and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me." - lana del rey

 

 

 

Pamela handed Harley a pair of fuzzy black socks, and they were ready to face the night. Harley slipped them on, mindful of her wrapped ankle, and winked at Pamela. “I’m just as good at putting clothes on as I am taking them off.”

 

Pamela raised her eyebrows. “All the pick-up lines in the world, and you go for that?”

 

“Leave the cripple alone,” Harley giggled. She pressed the wheelchair’s touchpad, propelling herself towards the door. Pamela opened it a second before Harley zoomed through, and she laughed with delight. Pamela followed, grabbing her leather jacket on the way out, and paused to lock the door.

 

“Let’s go Pammie,” Harley whined, bouncing in the wheelchair.

 

“How do you have so much energy as a college student?” Pamela demanded, heading down a hallway. Harley followed, and they stopped before an elevator, Harley whacking Pamela’s hand aside so she could press the button. She looked away, not wanting to see the expression on Pamela’s face once she knew the truth. “I actually don’t go to college. I started dancing when I was seventeen, moved in wi’ Jack at eighteen. I finished high school because my friends wanted me to, but that’s it.”

 

The elevator doors slid open with a soft beep, but Harley didn’t move. She was waiting for Pamela to yell at her, call her stupid and kick her out on the street like so many others had done—Jack included. Harley didn’t deserve Pamela’s care, and now Pamela finally knew it.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Harley saw Pamela kneel down next to the wheelchair and a warm hand tilted her chin up.

 

“Harley, look at me,” she murmured, and Harley bit her lip and obeyed. What she saw in Pamela’s face was not what she expected, and she immediately looked away. Pamela’s eyes held concern, and affection, and another emotion she couldn’t name.

 

“Hey.” Pamela’s voice was soft, but stern. “Did you think I would be angry you aren’t in college? Think that you’re stupid or something?”

 

Harley flinched, and felt tears welling in her eyes. She nodded hesitantly, and Pamela sighed, her hand still gently lifting her head up. She pulled her hand away, and Harley mourned the loss of contact until Pamela’s strong hands wrapped around hers, thumb stroking her knuckles.

 

“Just for the record, I don’t think that at all,” Pamela said, brown eyes boring into Harley’s turquoise. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart, and you don’t have to be smart to be loved.”

 

Harley blinked at Pamela, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I don’t… I’m just a stripper from Brooklyn who ran away at sixteen, I don’t deserve to be loved.”

 

Pamela frowned and tightened her grip around Harley’s hands, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve known you a day and I already admire you so much, Harl. You’re an incredible young woman. You’ve been through a lot, but you didn’t let that destroy you. You have such a big heart, you’re kind, you’re funny, and on top of all that you’re goddamn beautiful.”

 

Harley sniffled, raising her eyes to meet Pamela’s. “Ya really believe that?” she asked in a small voice.

 

“I don’t believe it, I know it for a fact. You are a wonderful human being, Harley, and whether or not you went to college has no effect on your worth. Okay?”

 

Harley tugged one of her hands out of Pamela’s gentle grip to wipe at her eyes. “Okay,” she murmured. “Can we go now?” she didn’t entirely agree with Pamela’s words, or understand how someone as incredible as the woman before her could see beauty in Harley’s fucked-up life, but tonight was theirs, and nothing could take that away from her.

 

“Of course. I have a surprise for you,” Pamela said, a smile curving her full lips. The elevator finally opened and Harley wheeled through, Pamela following.

 

“I’m the one who’s supposed to surprise ya,” Harley grumbled. Pamela motioned for her to press the parking button, and Harley complied cheekily.

 

“We’ll both be surprised, it changes every night.”

 

Harley perked up. “What _is_ it?”

 

Pamela shrugged. “I keep secrets very well, darling.”

 

Harley scowled, opening her mouth to say something rude when the elevator doors opened.

 

“After you,” Pamela smiled, toned arm on her hip.

 

Harley stuck her tongue out at her and rolled out of the elevator into a massive parking structure.

 

“This way,” Pamela called, walking down an aisle of cars. Harley sped after her, doing wheelies in the middle of the road, and Pamela watched, bemused.

 

“Don’t get run over,” she said, pulling keys out of her jacket pocket.

 

“I’m the one who’s gonna run people over!” Harley crowed, pressing the touchpad rapidly so she spun in circles.

 

“Do you want to go out, or do you want to fuck around in the parking lot all day?”

 

Harley stopped spinning and looked up. Pamela stood next to a black Mustang Convertible, smirking.

 

“Is that yer car?”

 

“One of many,” Pamela replied. “Get in.”

 

Harley wheeled to the passenger side, where Pamela held the door for her and helped her stand. “The wheelchair won’t fit,” Harley protested, glancing at the rather small backseat.

 

“Watch me,” Pamela grinned. She helped Harley into the car and shut her door, and a few moments later hopped into the driver’s seat.

 

“Ready?” she asked, starting the car.

 

“Where did my wheelchair go?” Harley demanded.

 

“It shrinks,” Pamela said casually.

 

Harley stared at her. “It _what?”_

 

“Shrinks. Our society is not very friendly to the disabled, so to make it easier on the friend I designed it for I made it shrink so she doesn’t have to use a modified car every time she went out.”

 

“Wow, Pammy,” Harley breathed. “Yer such a good friend.” she squeezed Pamela’s forearm with a soft hand.

 

Pamela shrugged. “It was the least I could do for her. And maybe when your foot heals, I can take you around on my motorcycle.”

 

Harley gasped. “You got a motorcycle?” she shrieked.

 

Pamela pulled out of the parking lot, a wide smile on her face. “Two of them. I can teach you how to drive one, if you’d like.”

 

Harley’s enthusiasm faded, and she turned to look out the window. “I don’t have a license,” she said quietly.

 

Pamela glanced at her, noting the sad, slightly embarrassed look on Harley’s face. “Jack won’t let you,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

 

“It’s not that he won’t let me, it’s jus’… easier. I don’t need to know how to drive, I have you,” Harley joked.

 

Pamela’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as she guided them through Gotham’s busy streets. “You deserve to be able to make your own decisions, Harley. No one should have the ability to take that away from you. Not even your boyfriend.”

 

Harley was quiet, and Pamela said nothing else, hoping her words had gotten through in some way.

 

“I think you’ll like this,” Pamela said after a long pause, pulling into a huge parking garage.

 

“Isn’t this near Gotham University?” Harley asked, looking around.

 

“It’s right next to it, actually. Students and faculty use this garage as overflow parking.”

 

Pamela parked on the first level, and Harley noticed she had a personal parking spot with a sign that read, “ _P. Isley, PhD.”_

 

Pamela walked around the car to retrieve the wheelchair and then opened the door for Harley.

 

“Such chivalry,” she grinned, taking Pamela’s hand. The older woman eased her into the chair, and they glided outside.

 

The sun was starting to set, turning Gotham’s gray spires gold. Harley paused the wheelchair’s movements to gape, and the reflection off a skyscraper cast rainbows across her face.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Pamela said, gazing at Harley and meaning something entirely different than the sunset.

 

“Like you,” Harley giggled, looking up at Pamela. “Sunsets are my third favorite thing in the world,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

“Oh really? What are the first two?” Pamela asked, gesturing for Harley to head down the sidewalk with her.

 

“Well, second is ice cream, and first is you—unicorns,” Harley blushed. She fiddled with the chair’s controls so she was rolling besides Pamela, and didn’t look at the dark-skinned woman.

 

“Unicorns are pretty cool,” Pamela said, either not noticing Harley’s Freudian slip or pretending she hadn’t heard. They moved down the sidewalk together, making idle conversation, until they turned a corner and Gotham University rose in front of them.

 

The school’s main entrance was extravagant, and Harley loved every bit of it: the gates were iron, wrought to look like Rodin’s _Gates of Hell,_ but instead of souls in torment it featured students studying and smiling among books and flowers. Beyond the gate, the expansive campus loomed, all ancient brick buildings and stained-glass windows.

 

Pamela nodded to the two security guards at the gate, and they nodded back assertively and let them in.

 

“It’s like yer famous or somethin’!” Harley exclaimed, bouncing in her seat and not sure where to look—the beautiful, flame-haired woman walking beside her, the immaculate, emerald lawns, or the gorgeous architecture framed by swaying oak trees.

 

“Here, I am,” Pamela smiled. “I worked here for several years, got my second PhD here, and helped fund the new STEM summer camp. The least they could do was give me my own parking spot.”

 

Harley stared at Pamela. “Jesus, yer an angel,” she breathed. “How are you so _nice_?”

 

Pamela laughed. “I just want to give back. Now I have money, and status, but I know what it’s like to have nothing. So I try to help whoever I can.” She stared into Harley’s turquoise eyes for a long moment, and Harley melted inside.

 

Pamela finally tore her eyes away and cleared her throat. “This way,” she said, leading Harley down the university’s main street. Harley watched everything with a childlike innocence that made Pamela’s heart swell, but she shoved her feelings down and stopped before a huge building with “GU Auditorium” stamped across the red brick in brilliant white paint.

 

“Is this the surprise?” Harley asked, stopping beside Pamela. There was a large crowd waiting outside the double doors, mainly made up of college-age students.

 

“It’s the first one,” Pamela said, full lips curling into a smile. “Come on, we can enter through a side entrance.” She led Harley through the crowd of people, several recognizing her and proffering a wave or handshake. Harley followed giddily, feeling the eyes of some college boys on her but not caring—she had a much better catch in front of her.

 

Pamela led her to the opposite side of the building and through a door that read, “NO TRESPASSING,” in threatening font.

 

“Ya sure we can be here, Pammy?” The blonde piped up.

 

“I can go anywhere I want at this school,” Pamela said. Harley couldn’t see the look on the older woman’s face, but she was pretty sure she was smirking.

 

Harley rolled down the dark hallway, easily keeping up with Pamela’s long legs. “Are we gonna see a show or somethin?”

 

“You’ll see,” Pamela replied mischievously. She opened another door for Harley, who sped through.

 

“Holy shit!” Harley exclaimed. They were inside what she assumed was the auditorium, and it was _massive._ Harley craned her head back and could only just see the moasaic ceiling, lit by half a dozen sparkling chandeliers. There were multiple levels of seating, accessible by golden stairs that glimmered in the light. The walls and seats were all a deep burgundy red, giving the impression of being inside a giant beating heart.

 

“This is incredible,” she murmured, turning to look at Pamela.

 

“I hoped you’d like it,” Pamela said just as softly. “My friend used to teach dance here, and she would always complain about the tiny theatre and miserable stage they had to use for recitals. So I helped fund a new auditorium. It was the least I could do for her…” Pamela drifted off, breaking Harley’s gaze to take in the spacious stage and velvet red curtains.

 

“Gosh, if that’s the least ya can do, I wonder what the best would look like,” Harley said, shaking her head.

 

“What can I say, I like making the people I love happy. And in this world, I’ve got plenty of cash to do that.”

 

“Lookin’ for a sugar baby?” Harley joked. She rolled forward, going deeper into the auditorium and missing the little gasp that escaped Pamela’s lips. “So, where are we sittin’?” she asked, and by the time she turned back Pamela had composed herself.

 

“Follow me,” she smiled, walking down an aisle to a small area marked with the universal handicap sign. “Up-close seating for my wheelchair queen.”

 

“Aw, ya didn’ have to, Pam,” Harley protested. “I don’t--”

 

“Hey, you’re in a wheelchair because you can’t walk on your own right now, so we can sit here for tonight, okay?”

 

Harley sighed. “Okay.” she rolled into the open space and parked herself next to a velvety red chair. Pamela sat down in said chair, smiling at Harley in a way that made the blonde blush and look away.

 

“If you want, afterwards I can get my friend to bring a medicine I created. It’s basically a much more powerful version of the one I put on your neck, and it will help your ankle heal completely in a few hours.”

 

“Oh, Red, that’d be great!” Harley exclaimed, twisting in her chair to give Pamela a tight hug.

 

Pamela opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was enveloped by Harley’s arms, the younger girl’s face pressed into her shoulder, and Harley smelled like sugar and soap and _home._

 

But just as suddenly as the hug began, it ended. Harley hastily pulled away from Red, fidgeting. “Sorry, I jus’ got a little excited. Jack doesn’ really like when I hug him either, so…” Harley trailed off, eyes downcast.

 

Pamela frowned as realization struck her. Harley thought Pamela’s shock at being hugged was disgust, not awe that this beautiful, hurting girl would trust her enough to hug her so tightly. “Harley, you’re absolutely fine. I _like_ hugs. You just surprised me a little, that’s all.”

 

Harley looked up, a hopeful expression on her face. “Ya like hugs too?”

 

Pamela smiled, opening her mouth to respond, when an usher dressed in black came up to them, smiling broadly.

 

“Doctor Isley, thank you so much for coming tonight,” the man beamed. “Here are programs for you and your guest, and I just wanted to let you know the house doors will be opening in ten minutes.” he handed a program to Pamela and Harley with a smile, then walked away.

 

“Ya really are famous,” Harley grinned. “I could get used to this.” she looked down at the program and gasped. “You didn’t tell me this was a dance recital!” She squealed, holding up the program. On the cover was a ballerina posing in mid-air, legs in a perfect split, with “ _GU’s Fall Recital of Modern and Classical Dance,”_ displayed elegantly under the dancer.

 

“I wanted you to be surprised,” Pamela said. “Are you… happy?” And she didn’t just mean about the upcoming performance.

 

Harley smiled broadly, entire face shining with joy. “I’m so fucking excited! I mean… freakin’,” she amended, glancing around at the ostentatious theatre.

 

Pamela smiled back at her, and suddenly the house doors were open and people came pouring through. The crowd was excited, talking and laughing loudly, and suddenly Harley was sad it wasn’t just the two of them watching the performance together.

 

Pamela seemed to read her mind, and leaned over to murmur, “Maybe someday I can arrange a performance for just us,” in Harley’s ear. Harley shivered as Pamela’s breath touched her hair, and she turned to Pamela, nodding eagerly.

 

“I’d love that,” she whispered back, as if the two were still alone in the mammoth auditorium. Pamela smiled warmly at her, and suddenly the lights flickered. Harley gasped and grabbed Pamela’s hand.

 

“It’s okay, it’s just the tech people telling everyone to shut up and sit down, the show is starting.”

 

Harley nodded, biting her lip, but didn’t let go of Pamela’s hand. “I just… don’t like the dark,” she admitted.

 

Pamela nodded reassuringly. “That’s alright, I’ve got you, okay?” she squeezed Harley’s hand, and the blonde smiled weakly. Jack had often blindfolded and tied her up during sex, then left her there, often for hours at a time. She never knew when he would suddenly hit her, or take her again.

 

Harley’s face must have showed the difficult memories, because Pamela’s brow creased and she leaned over to say something. Suddenly, the velvet curtains drew back, revealing a lone dancer on the dimly lit stage. Music started to filter in from below them, and Harley realized with a gasp that there was a live orchestra below them.

 

 _We’ll talk later,_ Pamela’s eyes said when Harley turned to her with a brilliant smile. She squeezed Pam’s hand back in agreement and turned back to the stage, enraptured.

 

All Pamela could think about was the soft hand in hers, narrow fingers intertwined, and how _natural_ it felt. Like there was nothing else in the world her hands were made to do, except hold Harley’s.

 

The rest of the recital passed in a blur for Pamela. She recognized a few of the dancers, and told Harley as much with gentle whispers and a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, but for the most part Pamela simply watched Harley’s reactions.

 

The young woman was simply ecstatic throughout the performance, watching the dancers’ movements like they held the key to happiness—which they did, in a way. Harley danced like it was the only time she was truly happy, and it seemed she found that joy in watching others dance as well.

 

After the performance, Harley was bouncing in her wheelchair, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “Can we meet some of the dancers?” she asked hopefully.

 

Pamela smiled, finally letting go of Harley’s hand—she had held it the entire show. “I’m going to grab the medicine from my friend, but you can talk to the dancers if you like. They usually come outside after the show. I’ll find you in a little bit, okay?”

 

Harley nodded, blonde hair bouncing with the movement. “That was incredible, Pammy! Thank you.” she gazed into Pamela’s dark eyes for another heartbeat, then grinned and tapped at her chair’s touchpad, whizzing past Pamela and out into the night. Pamela laughed to herself and walked up the aisle, waving to a slender, dark-haired woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  


***

  


Harley wheeled outside, relishing Gotham’s cool night air on her warm skin. The feel of Pamela’s hand in hers had made her feel warm all over, and she smiled to herself.

 

“Hey, I like your jumpsuit,” a deep voice said. Harley looked up and found herself in front of a tall, attractive young man—more importantly, one of the dancers from the recital. He had changed from his costume into jeans and a leather jacket.

 

“Thank you!” Harley exclaimed, blushing. “You were incredible! That number with the two others girls was _amazing,_ yer grande jete’s were so good! I just… wow. I’d love to be as talented as you one day,” she sighed.

 

The man grinned. “You could be! I have a friend who holds disability dances for those who can’t use their legs, it’s pretty cool!”

 

Harley stared at him, confused, before realizing she was in a wheelchair. “Oh, I’m not… I’m just in this until my ankle recovers, I fucked it up pole dancing.”

 

“Damn, that’s intense,” he replied, no judgment in his cornflower-blue eyes. “By the way, my name’s Oliver.”

 

“Harley,” she smiled extending her hand. He shook it, his large hand enveloping her smaller one, and Harley smiled.

 

“So do you go here? I haven’t seen you around,” Oliver said.

 

“Oh, no my friend brought me as a gift,” Harley answered, heart fluttering as she realized how true her words were. Pam was her friend, and she wanted to make Harley happy. The idea blew Harley’s mind, and she didn’t catch what Oliver said next. “Sorry, I zoned out,” she said. “What did you say?”

 

“Just that you should come by again, I’m taking a pole dancing class right now and I’m sure we could use more instructors.”

 

Harley blushed bright red. “Oh—I mean… That’d be nice,” she finished, scratching at her neck. “Thanks, Oliver, but--”

 

“I see you’ve made friends,” a voice interrupted. Harley turned in her wheelchair to see Pamela striding towards them, a shorter woman walking with her.

 

“Pammy!” Harley cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you know Oliver?”

Pamela pulled Oliver into a warm hug, answering Harley’s question. Harley shoved away the whisper of jealousy as Pamela squeezed Oliver’s shoulders before stepping away. “Yes, he took some of my classes when I taught here,” she explained. “He was quite the smartass.”

 

Oliver pretended to look offended, and Harley snorted with laughter.

 

“Alright, I better find Felicity. She wanted pictures after of me doing the splits,” he laughed. He nodded to Pamela then bent down to hug Harley. “Seriously, come by sometime. Pamela can give you my number and we can meet up on campus.”

 

“That sounds fabulous,” Harley beamed. She waved goodbye to Oliver, trying not to watch his nice ass in his very tight skinny jeans.

 

“Jesus, that boy is such a player,” the woman besides Pamela said, smiling wryly. Harley started; she had forgotten she was there.

 

“I’m Harley,” she said, holding out a hand. The woman took her hand and shook it firmly.

 

“Selina. Pamela’s told me all about you,” she said, a knowing gleam in her cat-like eyes.

 

Harley was saved from having to reply to that comment by Pamela. “Selina brought me the medicine, so we’re all set. Ready for your next surprise?”

 

Harley giggled. “Only if it involves food,” she said impishly.

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Selina drawled, rolling her eyes. She stalked off, Harley watching her curiously.

 

“Did I offend her?” Harley asked, concerned tightening the lines of her body.

 

Pamela shook her head and gestured for Harley to roll ahead of her. “That’s just Selina. She’s probably bitter I celebrated my birthday with you instead of her. It’s fine, I’ll call her later.”

 

“What--no,” Harley squawked, stopping the chair. “She’s yer best friend, you don’t need to hang out wi’ me! It’s fine, I’ll just go back to Jack’s--”

 

“Harley.” Pamela’s voice was stern, but kind. “I _want_ to spend tonight with you. I’ve had years with Selina, but I don’t know how long I have with you. So let’s make it count, okay?”

 

Harley nodded. _I don’t know when Jack will take you away,_ subtitled the sad lines of Pamela’s red mouth. _I’ll be here forever,_ Harley wanted to say. But she knew it wasn’t true. She would have this night with Pamela, maybe even tomorrow, but then Jack would call, and she would have to go back. He was her boyfriend, after all, and they loved each other… right?

  


***

  


The walk back to the parking structure felt hours long, and it was nearly nine o’ clock so the streets were pitch-black. Harley would have been terrified, but she felt inexplicably safe by Pamela’s side. Once they finally reached Pam’s car, the older woman opened the door for Harley and helped her in, then did her magic to make the wheelchair fit in the convertible trunk. She came back and squatted before Harley, not an easy feat in a tight dress and heels.

 

“How’s the pain right now?” she asked, looking up at Harley.

 

Harley frowned. “I didn’t really notice it earlier, I was so excited about everythin’, but now it kinda hurts.”

 

Pamela nodded. “I’m going to unwrap your ankle, okay?” she waited for Harley to nod before setting her warm fingers on Harley’s leg.

 

“Ya don’t have to ask my permission for everythin’, Pammy,” Harley smiled.

 

“Consent is important to me, even in little things,” the older woman replied, looking up and staring pointedly into Harley’s eyes. “A relationship without full consent is not healthy.”

 

Harley shrugged, agreeing to an extent. But she realized Pamela was talking about her relationship with Jack, and the corners of her mouth turned down. She _did_ consent to what Jack did to her, most of the time. He knew what was best for her, after all, and everything he did had a reason. As for the times when he fucked her while she was drunk, or sleeping.... Harley didn’t want to think about those times. She focused on the beautiful woman before her, who had unwrapped Harley’s ankle and was now studying the black-and-blue mess.

 

“How are you with shots?” Pamela asked, withdrawing a needle with a green liquid in it from a jacket pocket.

 

Harley cringed. “I hate them,” she admitted, eyes not moving from the needle.

 

“That’s alright, you don’t have to do this. But it will help you heal in a few hours, whereas if you let it heal naturally it will take days.”

 

The blonde sighed and offered her ankle to Pamela. “Stab away,” she ordered.

 

Pamela rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to stab you, it will just feel like a little pinch, okay?”

 

Harley nodded, although it didn’t comfort her much. Jack pinched her all the time, and left dark bruises.

 

“On three, okay? One, two--”

 

Harley felt a sharp pain in her ankle and cried out, glaring at Pamela. “You said on three!” She fumed.

 

“All done. I’m sorry, Harley, sometimes doctors lie to you to make you feel better.” Pamela stood, the needle now empty, and closed Harley’s door, sliding into the driver’s seat a few moments later.

 

“So, in a few hours, I’ll be completely healed?”

 

“Yes. It needs to be applied intravenously, but that’s the hardest part. Now we go to dinner, and hopefully you’ll be able to walk on your own before bed.” Pamela smiled at Harley, twisting in her seat to deposit the needle into a small, covered trashcan, and started the car.

 

“Geez, do you always stab people in yer car?” Harley demanded, glaring at the tiny trashcan and its suspicious contents.

 

Pamela snorted as she pulled out of the parking spot. “Only young, beautiful blondes who sprain their ankles dancing,” she quipped.

 

Harley rolled her eyes and turned to look out the window. Gotham was sketchy at night, regular citizens turning into mobsters and ordinary buildings into hellholes. But driving with Pamela, the entire city had a magical feel to it, as if all the dark corners would be revealed to be safe, and the dirt and grime washed away to reveal a different Gotham, one where Harley Quinn could be happy, and love who she was meant to love.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey readers, thanks for making it this far ! what do y'all think of me not tabbing over for this chapter ? i did it for the first two chapters, but not for this one, so does anyone have an opinion on which is better aesthetically ? personally i don't care , lol . 
> 
>  
> 
> leave a comment & i'll give you a beautiful word :)


	4. black cats and bloody knuckles

"Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people

And finally I did  
On the open road   
We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore   
Except to make our lives into a work of art" - lana del rey 

 

 

“So if you could do anything in your life, without fear or monetary restrictions, what would it be?”

 

Pamela sat across from Harley in the fanciest Italian restaurant Gotham had. It was certainly romantic-- fragrant candles flickered against navy-blue walls and Pamela’s eyes looked like honey in the candlelight.

 

“Gosh,” Harley muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before.... I think I’d want to dance like Oliver and those other kids, not for money or because they have to, but because they love it so much. I’d want to start a shelter for animals and kids who don’t have a home. And teach them jazz and ballet and eat waffles in the morning and play with puppies all day and… yeah,” Harley ended shyly, self-conscious of Pamela’s eyes gazing intently into hers.

 

“That’s wonderful, Harl,” Pamela murmured, pulling out her phone. “Give me a second.” Harley gnawed on a slice of garlic bread as Pamela typed something into her phone.

 

“You ladies ready to order?”

 

Harley and Pamela turned to the waitress and smiled. Pamela ordered a ridiculously healthy salad/pasta cross Harley could not pronounce with tea, and Harley ordered Alfredo ravioli and strawberry lemonade.

 

The waitress took their menus and Pamela turned back to Harley, tucking her phone into her jacket.

 

“Sorry, just wanted to write down your goals.”

 

Harley tilted her head to the side, puzzled. “Why would ya do that?”

 

Pamela smiled and leaned forward. “Because I want you to accomplish your dreams, Harl. and I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”

 

Harley blushed furiously and fidgeted in her wheelchair. “I don’t… oh Red, every time I think you couldn’ be kinder, here ya are blowin’ my mind again.”

 

Pamela shook her head. “You deserve the best, my darling. I’m just sorry I couldn’t tell you that sooner.”

 

Harley flapped a slender hand at Pamela. “Shucks. Um, what about you? What would you do if ya had endless money or whatever?”

 

Pamela laughed; a rich, melodic sound Harley wanted to listen to forever. “I have all the money I could want or need. And there’s no place I’d rather be than sitting across from you.” Pamela smiled at Harley and reached for her hand, but Harley pulled it away, grimacing.

 

“That’s what Jack said on our one-year anniversary,” she said. She looked away from Pamela’s concerned eyes, biting her lip. “Can we… talk about something else?”

 

Pamela nodded, lips parted. “Of course, Harley. I’m sorry I upset you. So... why the shelter for kids and animals? Why not a rich and famous Broadway dancer?”

 

Harley giggled. “I love dancing, but I love kids even more, I think. I want to give kids and homeless animals the home they deserve, the one I never had. A safe place for them to become who they are meant to be, ya know? And dancing… I can’t do it forever. I have maybe ten years if I’m lucky, and then my body will be so wrecked from dancing I’ll have to stop or damage myself permanently. I don’t want to reach that point. I don’t want to push myself so hard I break. And dance… it’s a passion of mine, but not a life-long goal. I want to do somethin’ meaningful wi’ my life. I wanna be remembered for more than dancin’, I want to change _someone’s_ world.” Harley looked up, turquoise eyes looking lost yet found as they met Pamela’s. “That sounds stupid. Sorry for talkin’ yer ear off.”

 

“I think it’s incredible, Harl,” Pamela replied. The waitress came back with their drinks, and Pamela and Harley thanked her simultaneously.

 

“Jinks, ya owe me a soda,” Harley grinned.

 

“Do you want another?” Pamela asked, ready to call the waitress back.

 

‘No, it’s a joke,” Harley explained, gesturing for Pam to sit back down. “It’s just a thing kids say when ya say something at the same time.” She opened her straw and blew it at Pamela. The wrapper flew into her face, and Pamela blinked slowly and picked up the wrapper.

 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” she demanded. Harley snorted with laughter but stopped immediately when a straw wrapper hit her chest and fell into her jumpsuit.

 

“Christ, we’re in public,” Harley exclaimed, eyes wide as she peered down her top, searching for the wrapper. “Save that for the bedroom-- I mean…” Harley trailed off awkwardly, cheeks flaming.

 

“Kinky,” Pamela muttered, eyes twinkling.

 

Harley broke down laughing, and didn't stop until the waitress came by with their food. “You alright, Miss?”

 

“Fine,” Harley gasped, wiping away tears. “Thank you.”

 

The confused waitress looked to Pamela, who smiled. “You heard her. I’m just hilarious.”

 

Harley rolled her eyes and dug into her pasta.

 

“So, why the plants?” Harley asked, half a bowl of ravioli later. “I mean, a beautiful, intelligent woman like you could do anything—become a movie star, take over Gotham, take over the _world_ —so why plants?”

 

Pamela smiled wryly. “It sounds crazy,” she said over her glass.

 

Harley raised her brows. “Crazier than becoming a stripper at seventeen?”

 

Pamela raised her hands. “Okay, okay. Just don’t laugh.”

 

“I’d never laugh at you,” Harley said, narrowing her eyes. “Well, unless ya did something stupid. I’d laugh at you then,” she giggled.

 

“Thanks for the encouragement, Harl. I mean, plants. They just… understood me in a way people couldn’t. They helped me get through my childhood, showed me life can grow even trapped underground… so in college, I studied them. And I realized they could do incredible good for humanity. They saved me, and taught me how to save others. So yes, plants are my thing. And I’ve been okay with that, with focusing on my work and nothing else, for a long time. Until I met you.”

 

“You don’t get lonely?” Harley breathed. Suddenly it was only the two of them in the restaurant, and Pamela’s lovely brown eyes seemed to take up the whole room.

 

Pamela bit her lower lip. “I… yes. And I know I say I love to take care of you, take care of my friends, but in reality I’m just selfish. It makes me happy to care for others, but would I still care if it didn’t give me this wonderful feeling? I don’t know, Harley. I—"

 

“Okay Red, we’re gonna stop right there,” Harley interrupted, grabbing Pamela’s warm hands. “I’ve been down the road of doubt and self-hatred, and it ain’t fuckin’ fun. You are _loved._ By so many people! So we’re gonna tip our nice waitress, then go back to yer apartment and eat all of yer ice cream and watch a movie and you ain’t gonna think about any sad shit. Okay?”

 

Pamela hadn’t seen an angry Harley often, and it warmed her inside to know Harley believed those things about her. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing away her empty plate. “This was supposed to be a fun night out, and I’ve turned it into a pity party.”

 

“Everybody has bad days, Pammie. You picked me up when I was down, so now it’s my turn.” She waved to the waitress, who dropped their check off with a smile.

 

Harley read the check and swore. “Jesus, this is expensive! Who charges forty bucks for pasta?”

 

“Harley, keep your voice down!” Pamela glanced around, hoping no staff had heard Harley’s words.

 

“Sorry,” she whispered, handing Pam the check. “Gosh, ya didn’t have to spend that much money on me! ‘m fine wi’ McDonalds, really!”

 

Pamela slid a hundred dollar bill into the checkstand and shook her head. “I am _not_ taking you to McDonalds, Harl. Ever.”

 

Harley pouted. “Their ice cream is incredible,” she protested. The waitress picked up the check, and Pamela stood, smirking at Harley.

 

“Come on, darling. We have much better ice cream at home.”

 

Harley led the way out of the restaurant and into the cool night air, her cheeks warming at Pamela’s words. _Home._ Pamela was quickly becoming a home in Harley’s mind, a safe place for her to be who she was without fear. They strolled to the car, Pamela opening the door for Harley again, and drove back to Pamela’s apartment.

 

“How does your ankle feel?” the redhead asked as she parked.

 

Harley frowned. “I don’t feel anything… has it been three hours yet?”

 

“It’s only been one and a half,” Pamela replied, checking her phone. “Let’s use the wheelchair to get you upstairs and then we can see how it feels in my apartment.”

 

Harley slid into the wheelchair for what was hopefully the last time and sped off, giggling.

 

“Jesus, Harley! Wait a second,” Pamela called, fumbling with the keys.

 

“Hurry up, Pa--” Harley was cut off by a scream and Pamela whirled around, heart stopping. Harley was surrounded by several thugs in all black, brandishing guns.

 

“Hi, Tiny,” Harley said, voice wavering. “What’s up?”

 

“The boss wants to know why yer fuckin’ around while he’s working,” one of the men grunted.

 

“‘m stayin’ wi’ a friend,” Harley said. She glanced back to Pamela, but the older woman had disappeared. Fear dropped like ice in Harley’s stomach. She knew she was safe when she had Pamela, but without her…

 

“What kinda _friend_ leaves ya in the middle of a parking garage late at night?” another man demanded.

 

Harley glared at them, hand hovering over the wheelchair’s touchpad. “Is Jack back?”

 

“Not yet, but he’s already pissed ya ain’t home, getting everythin’ ready for his return. Come on. We’ll take ya there.”

 

“I won’t go unless Jack is there,” Harley protested. Her heart was a tangled mess, Pamela and Jack terribly intertwined, but she at least knew that there was no way she was leaving Pamela if Jack was still away.

 

“Was hopin’ you’d say that,” the first man grinned, stepping closer and pulling out a knife. Harley swallowed and stared him down.

 

Suddenly, a looming figure appeared at the end of the garage. “Don’t you gentlemen have somewhere to be?” it growled.

 

The thugs whirled around, leering faces suddenly terrified. “This ain’t yer business, Bat,” one of them cried.

 

“It’s always my business,” he replied, and the world became chaos. Someone dragged Harley’s wheelchair away from the men and she screamed, but a warm hand clapped against her mouth.

 

“Shut up, it’s me,” a familiar voice hissed.

 

“Selina?” Harley exclaimed, craning her neck to look up at the brunette. She winked at Harley then dove at a thug, kicking his groin then snapping his neck. Harley watched, shocked, as Pamela jumped out from behind a car and slammed into Tiny. She threw him against a concrete pillar and punched him until blood came away on her knuckles.

 

But as soon as the battle had started, it was over. Harley watched in awe as Batman, Selina, and Pamela dragged the bodies into the center of the parking garage. The Bat and Selina started loading them into a truck and Pamela walked to Harley.

 

“Are you okay?” Pamela demanded, kneeling before Harley.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” Harley replied, reaching for Pamela’s hands. They were bloodied and raw, red dripping down her palms and all over her shirt. “Is the blood yours?”

 

“No, no, just my knuckles. I’m fine, Harley. But those men, they came to—” Pamela broke off with a gasp as Harley raised her torn knuckles to her pink lips and kissed each one.

 

A look passed between their eyes no words could explain, and Harley was about to breathe three simple words and Pamela was about to say them back when a gravelly voice interrupted.

 

“You alright, Harley?”

 

Pamela quickly pulled her hands away from Harley’s and stood up, hand on Harley’s shoulder. Harley stared at the speaker, mouth dropping open.

 

“You didn’t tell me ya knew _Batman!”_ she exclaimed.

 

Pamela shrugged. “It never came up.”

 

Harley blinked. “Jesus fucking Christ. The Bat. In person. I’m going to throw up.” and she did, all over his shoes.

 

Thirty minutes later, Harley was laying on Pamela’s couch, ready to die of embarrassment. Batman, Selina, and Pamela had just saved her life—and she thanked them by throwing up on Batman’s shoes. She groaned and buried her face in a pillow. The three superheroes—as Harley liked to call them, especially Pam—were talking in the kitchen, but Harley’s eyes were starting to droop, and she fell asleep before she could think to eavesdrop.

 

“Pamela, you do realize this is Jack Napier’s girlfriend,” Bruce Wayne said, nursing a cup of coffee in the redhead’s kitchen. The three of them sat at her dining table, Bruce in jeans and a t-shirt, Selina in a sparkly black dress and heels, and Pam in leggings and a tank.

 

“I know,” she said quietly. She looked down at her bruised knuckles. She had refused to let Selina bandage them. They were a reminder—but of what, she didn’t know. “What can I do? She’s an adult, I can’t force her to stay away from Jack. She- she loves him,” Pamela said, voice cracking.

  

“I’d say you love her much more,” Bruce replied.

 

Pamela recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “Why would you say that,” she demanded coldly.

 

Bruce looked to Selina, a sad smile on his face. “I know what it’s like to fight for your soulmate’s life.”

 

Pamela spluttered, ready to protest, but Selina shook her head and leaned forward, elbows on the table.

 

“Pam, the look on your face… You don’t have to admit it to us, or to her. But admit it to yourself, or this situation will get even worse. Harley cares about you, a _lot_. But she also cares about Jack. And he’s the one who’s emotionally manipulated her for years. So we have to be prepared for when he comes back. We’ve already seen that he doesn’t like sharing. How’s he going to react when he finds out you’re in love with his girlfriend?”

 

Pamela pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

 

“Pam—” Selina began, concern lining her brow, but Bruce took her hand and stood up.

 

“Thanks for calling us, Pamela. I’ll keep an eye on Napier’s house.”

 

“I love you, Pam. Bring Harley to lunch, I want to get to know her better.” Selina hugged Pamela tightly, then glanced over to the couch, where Harley was snoring.

 

“I’ll see if she wants to, she was pretty embarrassed about throwing up on Bruce’s shoes,” Pamela smiled. She shook Bruce’s hand and let the couple out, then sagged against the door.

 

“I’m so fucked,” she groaned, rubbing her eyes. She walked over to the couch, smiling at Harley’s sleeping form. “Let’s get you to bed,” she murmured. She pulled Harley into her arms and brought her into her bedroom, laying Harley down on the bed and tucking the covers up to her chin. There was blood on Harley’s jumpsuit from Pamela’s hands, but she didn’t want to undress her again and risk Harley waking up. She deserved her rest.

 

Pamela turned on a dim lamp and moved into the bathroom to relieve herself and brush her teeth. When she was done, she pulled off her clothes and turned to her closet, searching for some comfortable pajamas.

 

“Holy shit,” Harley croaked. Pamela whirled around, arms crossed over her stomach and glaring at Harley, who gazed at her from the emerald bed.

 

“How am I supposed to sleep with you lookin’ like that?” the blonde demanded, yawning.

 

Pamela pushed away her giddiness at Harley’s words and turned back to her closet, yanking out a nightgown.

 

“Never seen a woman in underwear before?” she demanded, slipping it on with her back to Harley. 

 

“Pam, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So when yer just in ya panties and some lacy bra from heaven… _Jesus_. Ya make me wanna believe in God.”

 

Pamela snorted and sat down next to Harley, silk nightgown sliding luxuriously against her brown skin. “Blasphemy,” she clucked, tapping Harley’s pert nose with a fingertip. “Now go to bed.”

 

“Ain’t you gonna sleep?”

 

“I’m not tired,” Pamela replied, which was true. Her body buzzed with nervous energy, adrenaline still rushing through her at the thought of someone taking Harley away from her.

 

“Okay. Stay with me, Pam?” she asked softly. She scooched over to Pamela’s side and laid her head in Pamela’s lap.

 

“I’d never leave you,” Pamela murmured, but Harley had already fallen asleep. The redhead pulled a book off her nightstand and tried to read, but it was extraordinarily difficult to concentrate with Harley nestled against her side, head in her lap, exhaling in cute little puffs through her mouth that ghosted Pamela’s bare legs. She shivered, chills running down her spine, and set her book down.

 

“Oh, Harley,” she sighed, setting a hand on the blonde’s head and rubbing her scalp. Harley murmured in her sleep, and Pamela froze, but a moment later Harley was still, and Pamela continued to stroke Harley’s hair. She turned off the light and settled into her pillow, watching the darkness. No one would touch her Harley ever again. She sat in the dark, a soft, warm body cuddled against her, and the words of a song she had always loved came to her. She sang them, sweetly and quietly, until her eyelids fell and the world felt silent and safe, confined to this pinpoint of being that was Harley and Pamela, sleeping besides one another, and everything was alright.

 

***

 

Harley woke up with a start, feeling unusually warm and content. Suddenly, she shot upright. Today was Sunday, which meant she had to make Jack breakfast, and she hadn’t even prepared a new routine yet—

 

“Harley? It’s okay, you’re with me,” a voice reminded, interrupting Harley from her thoughts. Her eyes focused on Pamela and she smiled sleepily.

 

“Hiya,” she said, laying back down.

 

“Hello, darling,” she murmured. “Sleep well?”

 

Harley snuggled against Pam and nodded. “I had the weirdest dream though. We were coming back home from a restaurant, and suddenly Jack’s thugs showed up and tried to kill me, but you and Selina and Batman showed up and saved me! And then I threw up on Batman,” Harley sighed. “It was horrible.”

 

Pamela made a strange noise and Harley looked at her. The redhead had a hand over her mouth, eyes crinkled in silent laughter.

 

“No,” Harley gasped. “It was real?”

 

Pamela nodded and burst out laughing at the look on Harley’s face.

 

“Are you shitting me?” she cried, pulling green blankets over her head.

 

“Harl, it’s okay. Everyone has embarrassing moments.”

 

Harley grumbled under the covers, and Pamela was struck with inspiration. She dove at Harley, slender fingers dancing along Harley’s sides until she screamed and threw the covers off, jumping at Pamela.

 

The older woman let Harley tackle her, laughing as Harley pinned her down with her hips and glared at Pamela, panting.

 

“I was asleep,” Harley growled, face inches from Pamela’s. Pamela swallowed, and Harley followed the movement with her eyes, then glanced to Pamela’s lips.

 

“Um, waffles?” Pamela asked, breaking the tension.

 

Harley rolled off of Pamela, snorting. “I love you, Pammie, but yer waffles are _shit_.”

 

Pamela stood and stretched, trying to ignore how it looked when Harley’s perfect lips smiled an _“I love you.”_

 

“You make them, then,” she scowled, but she couldn’t hide the smile in her eyes.

 

“Okay!” Harley beamed, jumping out of bed and following Pamela into the kitchen like a puppy.

 

“Do you know how to make waffles?” Pamela asked, crossing her arms as Harley sat on the counter, mixing eggs together with her tongue between her teeth.

 

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she retorted, mixing harder. Nightshade leapt up on the counter behind Harley and meowed, and it all went to shit. Harley screamed and leapt off the counter, sending the mixing bowl flying, Nightshade leapt after her, hissing, and Pamela stood in the midst of it all, not sure when her life became this _fun_ but loving every second of it.

 

“At least your ankle is okay,” Pamela remarked half an hour later, as they ate cereal on the couch.

 

Harley nodded, cheeks still flaming. Yes, her foot was fine, there was no bruising and she could walk by herself now, but the rest of her life was a goddamn mess. She just couldn’t seem to get it right. She tried to thank Batman for saving her life, and she threw up on his shoes. She tried to make Pam waffles, and she made a mess in her kitchen!

 

Jack’s voice crept into her mind, and Harley shook her head but his words rang loud and clear--what _are_ you good for, Harleen, if not for fucking? She ducked her head, biting her lip, but Pam’s voice startled her back to reality.

 

“Hey, Harley, it’s okay. It’s just like you said to me last night, remember? Everyone has bad days. But that doesn’t make you worthless, or unworthy of love.” Pamela set her bowl onto the floor and cupped Harley’s face in her hands. “I believe in you. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re useless because you make mistakes, okay?”

 

Harley nodded, blinking hard to push away tears. “Thanks, Pammie. Sometimes I jus’… I feel like all I am is a huge fuckin’ mistake.” she curled inwards, as if trying to prepare for Pamela to agree with her deepest fear, and Pamela’s heart broke.

 

“No, Harley,” she breathed, rubbing the blonde’s cheek with her thumb. “One mistake does not a person make, okay?”

 

Harley laughed mirthlessly. “Okay,” she said, wanting to believe Pamela told the truth. But so many people had told her otherwise, including Jack, so who was she supposed to believe?

 

“So, um, what do you usually do on Sundays?” Harley asked, turning back to her cereal. Pamela sat back down, grabbing her bowl, and smiled.

 

“Nothing, usually. It’s my day off, so I work out, hang out with Selina, work on my next book…” Pamela shrugged.

 

“That does not sound like a break!” Harley exclaimed, gaping at Pamela. Although the idea of Pamela, stripped down to booty shorts and a sports bra, stirred something in Harley she couldn’t suppress. “Where do you work out?”

 

Pamela grinned mischievously. “Here, I don’t like going to the gym. Want to see my work out room?”

 

Harley finished her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and nodded eagerly. “I’d love to! We can work out together!”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Pamela smiled. She took Harley’s bowl and washed it in the kitchen, Harley padding behind her.

 

“Can I borrow some workout clothes?” she asked.

 

Pamela turned and realized Harley was still wearing her bloodied gold jumpsuit from the day before.

 

“Shit, Harley, I’m so sorry! Just grab anything from my closet that fits you,” she said, turning back to washing their bowls.

 

“Okiedokie,” Harley grinned, skipping to Pamela’s bedroom. A few minutes later, she emerged in nothing but one of Pamela’s tank tops and underwear.

 

“Yer butt is too big, all yer bottoms didn’t fit,” Harley explained, seeing the way Pamela’s eyes widened.

 

“Give me a second,” Pamela said, mouth dry. She hurried into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, then looked at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were dilated, scarlet hair making a halo around her head, and she clenched her jaw to keep from punching the mirror.

 

“ _I’m so fucked_ is my new mantra,” she groaned. She yanked off her nightgown and pulled on a tank and leggings, then rummaged through Selina’s pile and found a pair of shorts that would fit Harley.

 

“Put these on,” she ordered, walking out of her bedroom and handing them to Harley. The blonde sighed but did as she was told, bending over in front of Pamela to step into the shorts. Pamela walked by her without a word, hands clenched at her sides.

 

“Exercise room’s this way, are you coming?” she called, moving down the hallway. She heard Harley scamper behind her and opened a door Harley hadn’t used before.

 

“Ladies first,” she smiled, ushering her inside.

 

“Jesus, I was expectin’ a sex dungeon or somethin’,” Harley laughed. Pamela rolled her eyes and moved to the center of the room. “It was an extra bedroom, but I didn’t need it so I renovated it.” She installed a punching bag, benchpress, weight rack, and treadmill. There was also a closet stuffed with towels, yoga mats, and therabands.

 

“Fuck, this is awesome,” Harley marveled, drinking the room in with wide eyes.

 

“Harl, what did we say about swearing?” Pamela asked, frowning.

 

Harley stared at her. “Um....”

 

“It belongs in the bedroom, or tastefully rare.”

 

“Well, this was a bedroom,” Harley grinned, stepping closer to Pamela.

 

“Not anymore,” Pamela insisted. “So are you going to stand there and watch, or—”

 

“Watching sounds just fine,” Harley grinned.

 

“Brat,” Pamela muttered under her breath. “I’m going to grab us waters, I’ll be back in a second.”

 

Harley nodded and rummaged through the closet. When Pamela returned, a cold water bottle in each hand and Nightshade trailing behind, Harley was laying in her middle splits, facing away from Pamela with her chest touching the ground.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Pamela gaped, trying not to stare at the curves of Harley’s ass and the dip of her spine.

 

Harley lifted her head and smirked. “Hi, Pam--” she broke off with a gasp as a loud _pop_   emitted from her leg. 

 

“Shit, you okay?” Pamela demanded, tossing the bottles to the side and rushing to Harley.

 

“‘m fine,” she protested, eyes screwed shut. “I thought cursing was for the bedroom?”

 

“Goddammit, Harley, that’s enough sass. Where does it hurt?”

 

“My right leg. I think I went into the splits too fast, it—” Harley wiggled and gasped again. “ _Fuck_ , it hurts.”

 

“Why the hell would you do that?” Pamela demanded.

 

“Was… tryin’ to impress ya,” Harley mumbled, ducking her head.

 

“Oh, Harl,” Pamela sighed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Harley’s ear. “You don’t have to do that, I’m already impressed.”

 

Harley buried her face in her hands. “I hate myself,” she groaned.

 

“Hey, let’s just get you up, okay?” Pamela bit her lip, glancing at Harley’s toned legs.

 

“Okay,” Harley said, taking a deep breath. “Can I—” she reached for Pamela’s hands. Pam immediately laced their fingers together, brown eyes scanning Harley’s.

 

“What do you need?” she asked.

 

Harley exhaled loudly and nodded to her left leg. “I gotta pull that one in first, then it should hurt less. Okay. Can you pull it in, Pammy?" she closed her eyes tight.

 

“Okay, on three,” Pamela said soothingly. This time, she didn’t move Harley’s leg until three, and Harley groaned low in her throat. Pamela stopped immediately, squeezing Harley’s hand.

 

“Talk to me, baby,” she urged, the nickname escaping her lips too easily. Thankfully, Harley didn’t notice, just kept her eyes shut.

 

“Keep going. I can take it.”

 

“Okay,” Pam breathed, readjusting her hold on Harley’s ankle. She gently brought it back in until her left leg was straight in front of her.

 

“You did amazing, Harl,” Pamela murmured, one hand holding Harley’s tightly and the other caressing her cheek. “You did so good, okay? Can you move the other one now?”

 

Harley opened her eyes, the brilliant blue shocking against her pale skin. She nodded and squeezed Pamela’s hand, then tried to pull her leg in and stopped immediately, whimpering.

 

“It hurts,” she gasped, tears welling up in her eyes.

 

“I know, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” Pamela squeezed Harley’s hand tightly then stood and left the room. Nightshade walked up to Harley, tail a black flag in the air.

 

“Go away,” Harley muttered.

 

Nightshade meowed softly and sniffed Harley’s toe. Harley held her breath, staring frozen at the cat until Pamela came back.

 

“I brought some of the ointment I used on your bruises, it should help with this. Did you hear that popping sound earlier?"

 

Harley nodded. “That’s never happened before.”

 

“You probably tore a muscle. Rub this on, and we’ll sit here until the pain goes away.”

 

Harley nodded and accepted the ointment. She squeezed some onto her fingers, then cautiously rubbed it onto her skin, wincing. She wished Pamela would do it for her, but the pain was right where her thigh met her groin and she doubted the woman was comfortable touching her there. But maybe someday… Harley smiled to herself and imagined a day without pain, without making a fool of herself, where she and Pamela could wake up together, or Harley could be awakened by Pamela’s talented fingers… Harley shivered, and glanced to Pamela to make sure she hadn’t noticed, but the redhead was on her phone, typing furiously.

 

“All done,” Harley announced, setting the ointment on the floor and adjusting her shorts to cover the aching spot.

 

“Great,” Pamela smiled, a truly happy smile that made Harley want to melt into a small blonde puddle. “It should—shit, sorry, it’s Selina.” Pamela tapped at her phone and held it to her ear, shaking her head.

 

“I don’t know, Harley isn’t feeling good,” Pamela said. Harley perked up, staring at Pamela.

 

“Hm, I’ve never been there… Okay, I’ll ask her. No, Bruce can stay home and mope. Girl’s night. Or day. Okay, I’ll let you know. Bye.” Pamela hung up and set her phone down.

 

“What did she say?” Harley asked, incredibly curious.

 

“She wanted to know if we want to grab lunch with her today. A new Thai place just opened Downtown, but if you aren’t feeling good we can order in.”

 

Harley shook her head. “I’m fine,” she protested. She tried to move her leg and yelped.

 

Pamela raised a perfect brow. “You are certainly _not_ fine. It’s okay, it’s only nine o' clock now. The ointment works in about ten minutes, but if it still hurts I’ll just tell her another time.”

 

“Yer too good to me,” Harley demurred.

 

“You’re too good for this world,” Pamela replied. She crossed her legs and smiled at Harley, sitting between the blonde’s outstretched legs.

 

“No, you,” Harley retorted.

 

“Just take the goddamn compliment,” Pamela murmured, taking Harley’s hands.

 

They sat there for much longer than necessary, Harley tracing little circles on Pamela’s knees, and talking about nothing and everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and i'll give you a beautiful word


	5. police lights and lost hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late , i got a job (!) 
> 
> trigger warning for the Joker being a douchebag at the beginning -- dubcon drug use , fear tactics .

_ "Live fast _

_ Die young   
_

_ Be wild _

__ And have fun."  - lana del rey    
  


 

 

 

_Five years ago_

  


“Ya sure about this?” Harley asked, scratching the back of her neck.

 

“Do you love me?” Jack responded, smirking.

 

Harley nodded quickly, and Jack pulled the mask down around Harley’s eyes. “Make me proud, Harl,” he said, slipping into the shadows. Harley stared after him. They had only been dating for a week, and Harley was falling, hard. So if her Puddin’ wanted her to rob a cafe, she’d do it. And she’d steal a few pastries, too.

  


The next day, Harley sat with Jack and a few of his cronies as Jack counted the cash from last night’s heist.

 

“Beautiful,” Jack murmured, thumbing through the bills. Harley shivered, her thigh pressed against his. He’d said it looking at the cash, but he meant her… right?

 

“Tiny, get some of the new shit Zero cooked up in the lab,” Jack said. He looked at Harley and smiled wolfishly. “You’ll love this.”

 

The huge man left, returning a few minutes later with a plastic bag. “You sure about this, Boss? Zero said he hasn’t tested it yet, was gonna give it to some prostitutes first--”

 

“We have our own tester right here,” Jack said, squeezing Harley’s leg. She yelped, and the men laughed.

 

“Open up,” Jack ordered, taking the bag from Tiny and pulling out a few yellow pills. “You take these every day now, or else.”

 

Harley obediently opened her mouth, and Jack placed three on her tongue.

 

“Zero said just one would--” Tiny protested, but Jack cut him off.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” he spat, not taking his eyes from Harley’s. She swallowed the pills, coughing slightly. Jack smiled, but his eyes were cold.

 

“Is somethin’ supposed to happen?” Harley asked, tilting her head. She looked to a stone-faced Tiny, then back to Jack, and screamed.

 

Jack’s face was horribly distorted-- his skin had turned white as paper, his lips were red as blood with teeth elongated into cruel fangs, and his _eyes._

 

Harley jumped to her feet and ran from the room, crying. Jack’s eyes had become soulless, even the whites turning pitch black. She heard laughter, and moments later rough hands were throwing her to the ground.

 

“Jack, help!” she screamed. But no help came, and no one could save her from the monster she had fallen in love with.

  


_Present day_

  


Two more bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch later, Pamela and Harley stood in front of Pam’s motorcycle. Harley was giddy with excitement, bouncing up and down like she hadn’t just torn her hamstring.

 

“Okay, put this on,” Pam instructed, handing Harley a black helmet. Harley immediately complied, and Pamela slid an identical helmet onto her head and flipped the visor down. She swung a leg over the motorcycle and straddled it, gesturing for Harley to do the same.

 

“This is so hot,” Harley sighed, sitting behind Pamela and wrapping her arms around her.

“What was that?”

 

“Ya didn’t hear nothin’,” Harley grinned, holding Pamela tighter. The motorcycle rumbled to life beneath them, and Harley giggled. They roared out of the parking garage, Harley whooping ecstatically.

 

***

  


“What a BAMF,” Selina sighed half an hour later. She watched as Pamela dismounted smoothly, pulling off her helmet and letting her curls fly in the wind. Harley tried to copy her and nearly fell on her face, but Pamela grabbed her.

 

“They’re so cute it’s revolting,” she hissed to Bruce, standing beside her.

 

“It’s good for Pam,” he replied, a knowing smile on his face. “I know what it’s like to be alone.”

 

Selina punched his shoulder and turned to the couple, grinning. “So glad you could make it, Harley!” she exclaimed, wrapping the blonde in a tight hug. Harley held her back just as tightly, then noticed Bruce standing behind Selina.

 

“Oh, um, hi…” she said, turning bright red. “Look, I’m so sorry about yesterday, I was just so out of it and the guys tried to kill me and _Batman_ shows up and--”

 

“Harley, it’s okay,” Bruce interrupted, planting a firm hand on her shoulder. “Let’s start over. Hello, my name is Bruce. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Hi,” Harley squeaked, very aware of the strength in the heavy hand. “Nice to meet ya too!”

 

“Ready to go inside?” Pamela asked, walking up to the trio.

 

“Yep,” Harley said, popping the ‘p’ with her perfect pink lips.

 

Bruce and Selina walked up the steps to the restaurant, Harley and Pam following. The blonde occasionally bumped into Pam, veering towards her like a moon orbiting her sun.

 

“Sorry,” Harley gasped as she tripped going up the stairs and nearly walked into a rail.

 

“Jesus, Harley, you okay?” Pamela demanded, grabbing Harley’s hands and pulling her upright. “What’s wrong?”

 

Harley shook her head, eyes unfocused. “I don’t feel so hot,” she groaned.

 

“Okay, let’s go sit inside and get you some water. Come on, darling.”

Harley stumbled after Pamela, smiling weakly at Bruce and Selina, who watched her with matching expressions of concern. They were seated immediately in a booth, and Harley plopped into it and laid her head on the table.

 

“Harl, let me see your face,” Pamela said, sliding next to Harley. The blonde groaned but lifted her head to look at Pamela. The redhead studied Harley’s face, noticing the dilated pupils and drooping eyelids.

 

Bruce and Selina sat across from them, frowning.

 

“Is she okay?” Selina asked.

 

“She… she took drugs to deal with her life before, Jack and everything. I think these are her withdrawal symptoms. The hospital had no idea what was in her system, it was this dangerous cocktail of drugs we’d never seen before.”

 

Bruce nodded. “I’ll have Alfred look into it.” He pulled out his phone and typed into it. Harley smiled up

at Pamela. “Yer so beautiful,” she whispered, lifting a hand to stroke Pamela’s face.

 

“Harl,” Pamela insisted, taking Harley’s hand and squeezing it between hers. “I need you to tell me what drugs you took on Friday.”

 

Harley pulled away, hurt flashing in her eyes. “I didn’ take anythin’!” she protested. “Jack gives ‘em to me for my anxiety!”

 

“Hey, Harley, it’s okay, I’m not judging you. How often did you have to take these… meds?”

 

“Every day,” Harley mumbled, eyes not meeting Pam’s.

 

 

The redhead cursed under her breath. “Okay, let’s take you home. I’ll—“

 

“Pam, I have to go,” Bruce interrupted. His cellphone was against his ear and he stood silently. “Jack Napier has returned. And he just robbed a bank.”

 

“Shit,” Selina breathed. “I’ll come with you. Let me know if she changes,” she added to Pamela.

“Okay. Actually, can you take Harley in your car? I don’t think she can handle being on a motorcycle right now.”

 

Harley burst into tears. “I can handle anythin’!” she protested.

 

“I believe you,” Pam murmured. “Come on, let’s go.” She helped Harley up, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

 

Bruce talked to a waiter, shaking his head and handing him a tip.

 

“My boyfriend is so nice,” Selina purred, sliding up next to him.

 

Bruce snorted and turned to Harley. “You ready?” he asked.

 

She screamed and tore herself away from Pamela, bolting for the door.

 

“Harley!” Pamela cried, running after her. But it was too late—she was gone.

  


***

  


“So you’re telling me your girlfriend is on some crazy illegal drug we don’t know about, and is now missing.” The officer raised his eyebrows at the two women. Pam was ready to slap him, and Selina kicked Pam’s ankle.

 

“She’s not my girlfriend, and she isn’t on the drug now, she’s experiencing withdrawal symptoms.” Pamela said, visualizing her fingers wrapped tight around the man’s neck.

 

The officer nodded and scribbled something on a piece of paper. Pam shot Selina a look, and the brunette shrugged.

 

“Hitting an officer is a crime,” Selina whispered. Pam clenched her jaw and glanced around the massive GCPD building. It was a multilevel room, with desks for regular officers on the bottom floor, cells for criminals on the second floor, and offices for the commanders on the third. Pamela and Selina stood in the entryway, blocked by the desk of the door guard.

 

“Okay, you can see Gordon. He should be done with his lunch break.”

 

Pamela stormed past him, hearing Selina thank him but not caring. Harley was _gone._ Lost in Gotham, experiencing horrible withdrawal symptoms, and easy prey for any criminal. Or worse, she’d be caught by Jack, and manipulated back to his side.

 

The redhead raced up the steps to the third floor, Selina right behind her. She shoved the door open that read, “ _ **COMMISSIONER GORDON**_ ” and rushed inside.

 

Jim Gordon was not having a good day. His daughter was struggling in school, his wife wanted a divorce, and there were bacon bits in his salad when he had specifically asked for none. He sighed and stabbed at a piece of lettuce, bringing it mournfully to his mouth. And then there was the whole business of some strip club owner shooting up a bank—

 

The door to his office slammed open and Gordon didn’t even look up. “What now,” he said tiredly.

 

“Harleen Quinzel is missing,” a woman exclaimed, striding over to his desk. “Find her. _Please_.”

 

“Pamela Isley! I wasn’t expecting you in my office today,” Gordon said, standing up and offering his hand to shake.

 

She stared at him.

 

“Um—you said someone is missing?” He asked, clearing his throat. He had never meet the brilliant scientist and billionaire, and was slightly shocked by the rage in her eyes.

 

“Our friend Harley. She’s Jack Napier’s boyfriend, and we’re afraid he might have taken her.” A much shorter woman with brown hair—Selina Kyle, he realized— stood beside Isley, hand on her arm.

 

“Him again? Great,” he scowled. “Okay, take a seat and tell me everything.”

 

They did. To his credit, Gordon didn’t even raise a brow when Pamela admitted how much she cared about Harley.

 

“Have you tried to contact her?” He asked.

 

“What do you think—“ Pamela began, snarling, but Selina leaned forward and placed a hand on Pam’s shoulder.

 

“What Pamela is trying to say is yes, we did try. My boyfriend went to the strip club, but it was closed. No sign of Harley or Jack. Pam tried her phone multiple times, but she hasn’t picked up.”

 

“Hopefully she’s just hiding out in an alley somewhere, but in Gotham you never know. Alright, I’ll get as many officers as I can searching for her. Keep trying her phone, Pam. And go home. I don’t want you ladies on the streets today.” He stood and shook Selina’s hand, then Pamela’s.

 

“Thank you, Commissioner,” Selina said, smiling briefly. She left the office, Pam following. Gordon picked up his phone, stared longingly at his bacon-infested salad, and made the call.

  


***

  


“So are we actually going to go home?” Selina asked as they walked out of the GCPD.

 

Pam snorted. “You’re shitting me.”

 

“It was worth a try. Where do you want to look first?”

 

“Let’s check the strip club again,” Pamela said, stepping up to her motorcycle and straddling it. “I know Bruce already went, but she may have gone after.”

 

“Let’s do it.” Selina pulled on the helmet Harley had worn only an hour ago and sat behind Pam. “I’ve never been to _Gotham’s Finest_ before. Guess the clubs I go to are classier.”

 

Pamela stiffened. “Can you not act like a snob right now? A woman is missing, Selina.” she put on her helmet and went to key the ignition, but Selina grabbed her hand.

 

“I know—I’m sorry, Pam. I’m trying not to be an asshole, but honestly? This situation terrifies me. I’m worried about Harley, worried about Bruce taking on too much. And I’m scared shitless that this Jack Napier is going to ruin my relationships.”

 

Pam turned in her seat to study her best friend. “Hey. It’s okay—and it will be okay. I won’t let a man hurt us ever again.”

Selina nodded, but Pam couldn’t read her expression through the helmet. She squeezed Selina’s leg, and the brunette wrapped her arms around Pamela.

 

The motorcycle roared to life, and they tore through the gray streets of Gotham. There was an art festival going on downtown, full of people laughing and buying beautiful things, and Pamela wanted to scream at them all to stop. The blue skies and cheerful crowds were polar opposites of her heart: alone and terrified for Harley. She had told Selina it would be okay, but how could she know? Harley was lost in Gotham experiencing withdrawal symptoms from some horrible drug Jack made her take, and if she ran into Jack Pamela didn’t know if she would see the bubbly blonde ever again.

 

“Turn here,” Selina yelled, tightening her arms around Pamela. The redhead cursed and swung the bike hard to the left. They made it, barely.

 

“Tell me sooner next time,” Pam called over her shoulder.

 

“I thought you knew where you were going!”

 

Pam sighed and studied the street before them. It was narrow, full of trash, with a shady tattoo shop on one side and _Gotham’s Finest_ on the other. Pamela glared at the blinking neon sign as she dismounted and pulled off her helmet. Selina did the same, wrinkling her nose.

 

“How did the girl live here for so many years?”

 

“People do crazy shit when they’re in love,” Pamela retorted. She walked up to the black double doors, frowning. They were padlocked, and no sign of a key anywhere.

 

“We can find a side entrance,” Selina said. “Oh, and take this.” She held out a SIG Sauer, deceptively dangerous in its sleek, simple design.

 

Pamela took a step back, eyes wide. “Selina, I haven’t used a gun in over ten years. I can’t--”

 

“Take the goddamn gun, Pam. We have no idea what we’ll run into here.”

 

The two women locked eyes for a long moment. Pamela took a deep breath and accepted the weapon. Selina pulled out her own handgun, a kind Pamela didn’t recognize with the Bat symbol on its side.

 

“This is my baby,” Selina explained, noticing Pamela’s gaze. “Bruce just got a shipment from Europe and I designed my own.”

 

“God, you really are batty for him,” Pam sighed.

 

“I thought we decided no more fucking bat puns,” Selina cried.

 

“You’re fucking a bat?” Pamela demanded, eyes raised.

 

Selina flipped her off. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

 

“As your best friend I am at liberty to make as many bat related jokes as I want. Step back.”

 

Selina rolled her eyes but obeyed, stepping back a few steps. Pamela turned the SIG’s safety off and fired at the padlock.

 

“Jesus Christ! Do you want everyone to know we’re here?” Selina exclaimed.

 

“Both of our guns are silenced, dear,” Pamela said. ‘Besides, this is much faster and more efficient than going through the back.” She pushed the door open, the broken padlock falling to the ground, and stepped inside.

 

The club was dark and empty. Pam cautiously made her way around tables and chairs haphazardly stacked against each other, Selina a step behind. They passed the bar, glass from a half-full beer bottle glittering on the shiny wood. The stage was empty, pole barely visible in the dim light, but Pam could blink and imagine Harley twirling there, laughing.

 

Pamela saw a door marked “ _ **employees only**_ ” and headed towards it.

 

“Who’re you?” a hoarse voice demanded. The women spun around, guns raised.

 

There was a cackling laugh, and they stared as an older woman stepped out of the shadows, cigarette in one hand and knife in the other.

 

“We’re looking for Harleen Quinzel. She goes by Harley,” Pamela said, lowering her gun. Selina shot her a glance, but Pam ignored it and stepped forwards. “Do you know her?”

 

“Friends of hers?” the woman asked, raising thin brows. “I’m surprised her boyfriend didn’t scare them all away.”

 

“Tell us where she is,” Pamela demanded, her voice echoing in the empty room.

 

“Nobody knows. Nobody cares,” the woman replied, smiling wickedly. She took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled, blowing purple smoke towards the two women.

 

“Give us an answer, lady, or we’re calling the police,” Selina barked, gun still held up in front of her.

 

The woman sighed heavily. “Kids these days… you know, Jackie was in here too, pissed as hell. And I don’t appreciate people coming in here pissed. It ruins the ambiance.” she lifted her knife and studied it, silver glinting like her eyes.

 

“Jack Napier was here? Does he know where Harley is?” Pam looked at Selina, fear in her eyes.

 

“I didn’t tell him shit. That boy is too cocky for his own good—or anyone else’s.” she paused to scrape some dirt off her dress with her knife. “What did you want to know?”

 

Pam stepped forward, lifting her gun threateningly, but Selina grabbed her arm with her free hand.

 

“If you know where Harleen is, we’d really appreciate that.” Selina flicked her safety on and tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans, then raised her hands to show they were empty.

 

The woman stared at Pam and sucked on her cigarette. “She might be at her parent’s old house, or the boyfriend’s mansion.”

 

“Thank you!” Pam exclaimed, pulling out her phone. “What are the addresses?”

The woman gave them, then turned away. “Good luck,” she said quietly. “And hurry. The sun rises on gotham, and bats will die.”

 

They stared at her. “I’ll be outside,” Pamela murmured, hand brushing against Selina’s. She nodded, stone-faced, and walked towards the strange woman.

 

Pamela walked out of the club, squinting as she met the bright light of Gotham. She slumped on her motorcycle and checked her phone. It was half past one; two hours had passed since Harley disappeared. She tapped the phone icon and tried calling Harley again.

 

“Hiya, it’s Harley! Thanks fer callin’ me, but I’m busy dancin’, eatin’, or hangin’ wi’ my Puddin’. Call back later if ya want!”

 

Pamela closed her eyes, savoring the sound of Harley’s voice long after the voicemail had ended. She had called Harley a dozen times, and left as many texts, but the blonde wasn’t responding. Don’t think about what that could mean, Pam told herself, but her mind was already supplying images of Harley dead in an alley, laying broken on the side of the road, or locked in an embrace with Jack Napier--

 

“Pam! You ready to go?” Selina strode towards her, face a slipping mask of calm.

 

“What did she say?” Pamela asked, grabbing her helmet.

“Just drive. I’ll tell you later,” Selina said, glancing almost fearfully at the club’s open doors. Pam pursed her lips and revved the engine, roaring out of the narrow street and into Gotham’s lovely traffic. Selina wasn’t afraid of _anything._ For her to be scared of an old lady made her blood go cold.

 

“Where to first?” Pamela asked as they paused at a stoplight.

 

“Drop me off at the McDonald’s off of Sixth. It’s close to the Napier Mansion, Bruce is meeting me there. And you need to eat something.”

 

“No, I do--”

 

The light turned green and Pamela stopped talking, focusing on shooting the motorcycle forward and ignoring her rumbling stomach.

 

“When was the last time you ate?” Selina yelled.

Pamela ignored her, revving the engine. God, even the thought of food made her nauseous—she couldn’t stop to eat while Harley was in danger. She watched the street signs as they flew by. This morning, Harley had a few bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but Pam had wanted to wait until they ate at the Thai restaurant. Now it was half past one. Harley had been missing for two hours. Pamela tightened her grip on the handlebars.

 

McDonald’s loomed ahead of them, and Pamela slowed and turned into the parking lot, all the while thinking of how she had promised Harley she’d never take her there.

 

“You need to eat something,” Selina insisted after they had pulled off their helmets.

 

“Do they have anything vegetarian? Or remotely healthy?” Selina asked as they walked up to the restaurant.

 

Selina shrugged. “They have salad. And ice cream!”

 

 

Pamela rolled her eyes. “Ice cream is not healthy. And doesn’t their salad have hundreds of calories?”

 

She held the door open for Selina, and the brunette strolled through.

 

“Fine, be sad and hungry,” Selina snorted. “I’m going to enjoy some goddamn chicken nuggets.”

 

Pamela looked around the restaurant, taking in the lovely smell of hot fries, disinfectant, and grilled animals. The decor was garish, the workers were exhausted, but overall it was fairly charming.

 

Ten minutes later, Pam and Selina slid into a booth, the shorter woman beaming as she clutched a box of chicken nuggets and a milkshake, the redhead rolling her eyes as she set down a water cup and a plastic bowl of oatmeal.

 

“When is Bruce coming?” Pam questioned.

 

Selina took a long sip from her milkshake, moaned inappropriately, then looked at Pamela.

 

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of this _amazing_ shake,” Selina drawled.

 

“Go fuck yourself,” Pam smiled, taking a bite of her oatmeal and cringing slightly. “This is great.”

 

“Do you want to grab Chinese after we search?” Selina asked, watching with concern as Pamela pulled a strawberry out of the runny oatmeal and popped it in her mouth.

 

“Only if we find Harley,” Pamela said. She sipped her water and looked out the dirty window. “There’s Batboy.”

 

Selina turned in her seat to smile at her boyfriend. “Why do you call him that?” she hissed, waving at Bruce.

 

“Would you rather I call him Batdick?”

 

“Asshole,” Selina muttered, standing up. “You insult Dick.”

 

Pam smiled sweetly at her and poked at her oatmeal.

 

Bruce strode up to them, a bracing smile on his face, and Selina tackled him in a hug. Pam looked away, not wanting to intrude on their intimate moment but also missing Harley.

 

“How are you holding up, Pam?”

 

Pamela looked up to see Bruce smiling at her, genuinely, and she shrugged. “Thanks for being here.”

 

“Anything to help a friend,” he said, and Pam felt slightly bad for calling him Batdick, but not really. “Gordon said he asked you two to go home, though. We can handle it from here.” Bruce gestured to where there were several GCPD cars out in the parking lot.

 

“No way in hell am I sitting on my ass, waiting for a call while my—while Harley is out there!” Pamela said, shooting to her feet and glaring at Bruce.

 

“That’s not what Bruce is saying,” Selina said, shooting him a glare.

 

“I’m the one who has the addresses, so I don’t see why you think you can make me stay home,” Pamela snapped, pushing out of the booth and tossing her oatmeal in the trash. She walked back to the couple, breathing hard.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry Pamela. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do. It would just make me and Gordon feel better if you took a few police officers with you. Does that sound okay?”

  
Pamela sighed and glanced to Selina, who nodded imperceptibly. “Okay. You two are going to Jack’s mansion?”

“Yes, with a few other cars. Good luck, we’ll call you if we find her.” He walked outside, Pam frowning at his back.

 

“Hey, he’s just trying to help.” Selina said, standing beside Pamela. “It would make me feel a lot better too.”

 

“I know,” Pam scowled. “They just… Don’t know Harley. I don’t want her getting scared and bolting again.”

 

Selina nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Well, the officers will have to listen to you, so if you want them to wait outside Bruce will have to be okay with that.”

 

“Thank you,” Pam breathed. She hugged Selina tightly, and they walked out together.

  


***  
  
Pam stood in front of an abandoned house on the poorer side of Gotham, sneakers scuffing against the dirty sidewalk. Several signs said, “ _ **FORECLOSED**_ ,” and “ _ **NO TRESPASSING**_ ,” but she ignored them. Three police officers waited behind her, talking quietly. She ignored them too and walked up the creaky wooden steps to a dilapidated porch. An ancient wind chime made of broken glass hung from the roof, and Pamela walked to it and touched one of the glass pieces, causing them to sing together. She tried to imagine a young Harley, playing with dolls on this porch. Kissing a boy on the sidewalk before darting inside. Running away at sixteen…

 

She turned and tried the door handle. It groaned, but obeyed, and the door swung open with a screech. Inside, the house was pitch black. Pamela turned on her phone flashlight and held it in front of her as she stepped inside.

 

The house was silent, but not a peaceful silence. Silent like a street after witnessing a murder, the watchful silence miles beneath the ocean.

 

Pamela turned in a slow circle, the hair on her arms prickling. She felt like she was being watched, which was ridiculous, because it was obvious no one had lived here for many years. She took another step forward, squinting. She could barely make out the dark forms of furniture, large boxes, what looked like a human form—

Suddenly, lights flickered on, and Pamela dropped her phone. She scrambled to pick it up, and when she stood up there was a man standing before her with dark hair and soulless eyes.

 

“Hello, Pammy,” he smiled wickedly. “You and I have a lot to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and i'll give you a beautiful word :0


	6. bullet holes and chocolate chip cookies (make for quite a date)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that it's summer i'll be able to stick to a weekly posting schedule updating on tuesday ! 
> 
> here's lots of fluff for the roller-coaster ride of a chapter last time , haha . 
> 
> trigger warning for mentions of past abuse n implied rape/torture 
> 
> spoiler alert for mune : guardian of the moon

"I believe in the person I want to become  
I believe in the freedom of the open road  
And my motto is the same as ever  
"I believe in the kindness of strangers"" - lana del rey

 

“Jack!” Pamela exclaimed, starting forward.

“Ah—ah—ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jack said, cold voice cutting through the shadows. “See, this is the part where you stand there and listen and I talk. So—” he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, then showed it to Pamela. It was a livestream video of Harley, gagged and crying. 

Pam growled. “You—”

“Another word out of you and I tell my men to start cutting off fingers. She was never very good with them, anyways.” 

Pamela froze. She had no idea how she had gotten into this hellish situation, or how to get out, all she knew was she had to protect Harley. 

Jack stared at her for a moment before breaking into a horrific smile. “That’s better. Now, the matter I’d like to discuss today is the, ah, relationship between you and my girl.” He paused, and Pam’s heart stopped. So he knew how she felt about Harley—what else had he found out?

“You took her from me, and I don’t like people who steal my things. So here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna promise me you’ll never contact Harley ever again and I’ll let you go home. If you don’t, well…” Jack took a step closer to Pam and pocketed his phone. “I’m sure Harley has told you how badly she wants children.” 

Pam refused to blink. Had she? They’d never really gotten on the topic, but Pam had been planning on bringing it up—

“It would be such a pity if a little accident happened and she became permanently barren, wouldn’t it?”

“You monster—” Pamela exclaimed, raising her fists. 

Jack grabbed her wrists in one hand and studied them, her night-black skin contrasting with his porcelain. 

“Evil is relative, Pammy,” he said softly, pulling a gun out of his pocket. Pamela jerked away from him, yanking her hands out of his iron grip, but it was too late. 

He fired the gun. Pamela fell to the floor, her last thought of Harley, and how she couldn’t save her.

***

Pamela woke up in darkness, certain she was dead and this was some strange afterlife. She was laying on a soft surface. She tried to lift her left arm and gasped as horrible pain shot all down her side. Okay, not in the afterlife. She looked around. On her left side was what looked like a heart monitor, green line rising and falling steadily. Well, that was good. She glanced down to her arms. Her right had an IV in it, leading to a bag of clear fluid. Hospital then. 

The door opened, a flood of sterile light filling the room, and she grimaced. 

“Pam?” a soft voice called. For a second, her heart leapt. But as her eyes adjusted she realized it was just Selina, and she kicked herself for being disappointed. 

“Right here,” she croaked, voice rusty. 

“Jesus, Pam, you scared us,” Selina said, flicking on the lights and sitting in the chair beside Pamela’s bed. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better than you look,” Pam smirked, watching as Selina filled a paper cup with water and handed it to her. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, there were several scrapes on her face, and her smile was  
weak, barely reaching her eyes. 

“Fight me,” Selina scowled, but there was a heaviness to her voice that hadn’t been there that morning. Wait—

“How long have I been out?” Pam demanded, draining the cup in one gulp and trying to sit up. “Harley—“

“Calm down!” Selina stood quickly and pressed Pan back onto the bed. “Only four hours. Our teams are still scouting Gotham, but there’s been no trace of her.” 

Pam released a heavy breath and sank into the bed. “Alright. What happened after Jack shot me?” 

Selina tore her eyes away from Pamela’s bandaged arm. “Our agents heard the gunshot and rushed inside. Jack was gone, and you were bleeding out on the floor. They found a phone that seemed to be playing a live feed of Harley, the GCPD are working on it now. But Napier hasn’t shown up anywhere else, legal or not. Bruce is calling in all his favors on this one.”

“Tell him thank you,” Pam said quietly, staring at the white wall in front of her. Harley was still gone. And she could do nothing—  
On the bedside table, Pamela’s phone rang. Both women froze and stared at it, and then Pam lunged for it, fingers trembling. It was the front desk manager of her apartment building. 

“Hello?” Pam bit her lip, her facial expression showing it wasn’t Jack. Selina relaxed in her seat, and Pam set the conversation on speaker. 

“Hi Doctor Isley, this is Mary. Security found a young woman sleeping against your door…”

She continued to talk, but Pamela lost focus. All she knew was she was running out of the hospital, away from Selina. Harley had come home. 

*** 

Pamela sat on the couch in her apartment, Harley’s head in her lap and emerald blanket pulled over them both. Nightshade watched from the coffee table, then winked at Pam. 

She ignored her cat and glanced at her phone. Nearly midnight. Jesus, she was tired. But she wanted to be awake when Harley woke up. 

Pam sighed and carded brown fingers through Harley’s golden hair. She had found the woman as the front desk had said: slumped against her door, a little scratched up but completely unharmed by Jack or any of his goons. 

Pam had wanted to shake her, grab her by the ear and demand why she thought running out was okay, but she kicked herself the moment she thought that. Harley hadn’t been in control of her actions, and even experiencing hallucinations and horrible withdrawal symptoms she came home. 

So Pam would let her sleep as long as she wanted. She shifted, wincing at the pain in her arm. A side effect of being a brilliant woman in the medical field was men either feared you or hated you, and Pam… she had both kinds. One man in particular had tried to wreck her spirit, but he hadn’t succeeded. Not entirely. Yes, now the medicines she had created wouldn’t work on her, but at least she could still help others. She winked back at Nightshade and smiled down at Harley. Sure, her life was fucked up, but it was hers. 

***

Pamela woke up feeling wonderfully warm and comfortable. Soft jazz met her ears, she could smell freshly baked cookies-- cookies?

She opened her eyes and sat up, slamming into something hard. 

“Fuck!” Harley cried, jerking her head back and holding her chin. “Warn a girl next time, would ya?”

“Harley!” Pam exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise. She must have fallen asleep, but Harley woke up and— “You stayed,” she breathed, crawling off of Harley’s lap and gazing at the woman, ignoring the pain in her skull. 

Harley’s brow furrowed. “Course I did. I couldn’t run out on ya twice in a row, could I?” 

Pamela looked away, a small smile on her face. The clock on the TV read nearly five, and she whirled back to Harley. 

“How long did I sleep for?” 

Harley frowned. “I woke up around two last night on top of ya, and I couldn’t fall back asleep so I watched Jessica Jones and made cookies. Yer cat is a dick, by the way.” 

Pamela laughed, in awe of the beautiful blonde before her. “I know. Can I—can I have a cookie?”

Harley giggled and jumped to her feet, blanket falling away to reveal another pair of Pam’s pajamas. 

“Is it okay if I borrowed them?”

Pam drank in the sight of Harley in nothing but a green, oversized t-shirt and fuzzy white socks. “Um—of course,” she said, swallowing awkwardly. 

Mischief twinkled in Harley’s blue eyes and she pranced to the kitchen, Nightshade following. Pamela sighed and stood much more slowly, every muscle in her body aching. She glanced down at her left arm, bandaged under a leather jacket she didn’t remember putting on. It hurt like hell, and maybe she shouldn’t have bolted out of the hospital so quickly. But it was Harley. She wouldn’t admit it to herself, but she would do anything for the spunky blonde.

“Harl, do you know where my phone is?” Pamela walked into the kitchen and stood before her coffee maker. She didn’t remember making a pot yesterday, either...

 

“It’s charging on the counter. Selina called earlier but I let her know you were safe and sleeping. Oh, and I figured out how to use yer coffee maker!”

Pamela smiled gratefully. “Thank you. I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you.” she grabbed her phone, glancing at the screen before pocketing it. She had something much more important in front of her. 

“Aw, shucks.” Harley blushed and scratched her neck. “Want a cookie?” 

“Please.” 

Harley grinned and handed Pam a soft cookie. The redhead bit into it and moaned dramatically, eyes falling shut. 

“This is incredible. I didn’t know you can cook!”

“Jack says I make the best cookies in the state,” Harley beamed, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, you prolly don’t wanna talk about ‘im.” 

“No, actually I do,” Pam replied, sitting down at the kitchen table. Harley sat across from her, wringing her hands. 

“Selina said Jack shot you,” Harley blurted out, wringing her hands. “But he would never do that—he isn’t even in Gotham! He’s coming back tomorrow, and I’m so sorry I ran out on you, and if you want to kick me out that’s fine, I can leave right now! I jus—”

“Harley.” Pamela gently but firmly interrupted the blonde’s tirade, standing up and moving to her side, then kneeling before her. 

“Jack did shoot me. And he is capable of much worse. He—he had a video.” Pam swallowed hard and then continued. “It seemed like it was live, it was of you gagged and crying. But if it wasn’t live… what has the man done to you?”

“Nothing!” Harley said, hands going still. “He loves me. He just—he has issues! Everybody does.” 

Pam sighed. Harley was still in love with Jack after everything, still defending his horrible actions. “We can talk about that another time. For now, I want you to know that what happened was not your fault. You were experiencing withdrawal symptoms, but now you’re okay, right?”

Harley shrugged. “Yeah. Selina came by and gave me some herb stuff for any more symptoms, but Tiny said one episode is typical, and then yer free.”

Pam nodded. “Okay, good. Did you tell Selina about Jack not being in town?”

“I did. We talked a while, about Jack. And you. I mean, and everything.” Harley blushed furiously and fidgeted with a strand of hair. 

“I’m glad, Selina is a great friend,” Pam said, standing up and yawning. “Do you want to go do something now? Walk around or—“ 

“No way Jose, Selina said ya need to rest today. That means I get to take care of you.” Harley stood up and grinned at Pam. “So we get to hang out more! Is that okay?” Worry suddenly overtook Harley’s glee. “If ya want, I can go while you sleep…”

“No!” Pamela exclaimed, grabbing Harley’s hand. Harley gaped at her. “I mean, no, you can stay,” Pam said, glad her dark skin hid any blush. She let go of Harley’s hand and walked to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. Without thinking, she tried to pour with her left hand, and as she lifted the pot pain shot through her arm, so agonizing she swore and dropped the pot, clutching her hand. The glass pot shattered against the floor, spilling coffee and glass everywhere. 

“Pammy! Are you okay?” Harley exclaimed, rushing to her side, narrowly avoiding the puddle of coffee and shards of glass. 

“Fine,” Pam hissed, biting her lip. 

“Come on, let’s get you to the couch,” Harley said comfortingly, placing a small hand on Pamela’s back and walking her to the living room, where she deposited Pamela onto the soft cushions. 

“There’s coffee everywhere,” Pam groaned, looking down at her clothes. Someone (probably Selina) had changed her into a silk pajama set, and while her leather jacket was safe the white silk had splotches of black all over. 

“Okay, you go take a shower and I’ll throw these in the wash and clean up.” Harley helped Pam stand up and held out her hands. 

“What? No, I made the mess, I’ll clean it up,” Pamela protested. 

“Give. Me. Your. Clothes.” Harley ordered.

“You really know how to seduce a girl,” Pam sighed. She tried to shrug off her jacket and yelped. 

“Here, I’ll help,” Harley said. Pamela pursed her lips but kept her arms still as Harley carefully pulled off the jacket. She was supposed to be the one taking care of Harley, not the other way around. 

Harley must have read the expression on her face, because she shook her head and declared, “Sometimes you jus’ gotta let other people take care of ya for a while? You know who taught me that?”

Pamela shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at her wounded arm. 

“You did,” Harley said, voice soft, face inches away from Pamela’s. She stared into turquoise eyes, afraid to blink, and then Harley smiled and the moment passed.  
“Okay, clothes off.”

Pam sighed heavily—she seemed to be doing a lot of that nowadays—and slid off her silk pants, then started unwrapping her arm. Harley picked them up and seemed ready to say something when her gaze caught on the fresh bullet hole, surrounded by dried blood, on Pam’s bicep. 

“Holy shit,” she breathed, lifting a hand as if to touch the bloodied skin, but then blinking and pulling away. “Um, do you need help with the shirt?”

Pam nodded, holding her arms out again. She admired the way Harley kept her emotions in check, but knew both of them were struggling as Harley frowned at Pamela’s button down. 

“Okay,” she said quietly, and Pam pretended not to notice the way her fingers were trembling as she undid the first button. Harley’s cool hands brushed against Pam’s bare chest, and her breath hitched. 

“Sorry,” Harley whispered. 

“It’s fine,” Pam whispered back, not sure why they were whispering but accepting the silence of Harley’s focus. 

Harley unbuttoned the last one and gasped, opening the shirt further to stare at Pamela’s abdomen. 

Pam clenched her fists but stood frozen, gaze straight over Harley’s head. She knew what would happen now. Harley would drink in the sight of Pamela’s horrible, ugly scars, and know the truth: Pamela was worthless. Carved up and thrown away by a man, used, broken. 

But suddenly, there was a soft thump, and Pamela gasped to find Harley on her knees before her, gazing up at her with those lovely turquoise eyes that shimmered with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Harley breathed, fingers hovering just above the thick vertical scar that traveled from just above her panty line to a few inches above her belly button. Then she placed gentle hands on Pamela’s waist and kissed the scar. 

Pamela’s world stopped. She might have screamed, or cried, or laughed. She always joked about “the women she brought home” and her incredible sexual prowess, but the truth was she hadn’t had sex since college, years ago. Since one man destroyed her body and wrecked her spirit. No one had seen her scar except for Selina, and that was only once. 

Pam fisted her hands in Harley’s golden hair, breath coming out in ragged gasps. Harley kissed higher, planting seeds of love along the mark of hate. Pamela realized she was murmuring something against her skin, and once she heard it she fell to her knees.

“Harley,” she gasped, cradling the blonde’s face in her hands. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Harley repeated, tears running down her face. Tears prickled in Pamela’s eyes, but instead of bottling them up and shoving the pain away she let them fall. Harley threw her arms around her, and Pam ignored the pain in her arm and buried her face in Harley’s shoulder. They sat like that for a long time, spilled coffee and shower forgotten, until Nightshade started howling. 

“Jesus Christ, cat, what do you want?” Pamela growled, pulling away from Harley and rubbing her eyes. 

Harley smiled, sniffling. “She’s probably mad there’s coffee in her food bowl.”

Nightshade meowed again, and Pamela groaned. 

“Shit, I forgot about that.” She stood shakily, going to rebutton her shirt when Harley grabbed her hands. 

“No no no, you go take a shower and I’ll take care of shit. That was the plan, remember?”  
“I don’t—“

“Nope.” Harley gently pulled off Pamela’s shirt, blushing as she took in the older woman’s matching  
bra and pantie set—emerald green, of course. “Go shower!” 

Pamela rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, sauntering off with a sway in her hips. She glanced  
over her shoulder with a smirk, knowing Harley was staring at her ass. 

“Enjoying the view?” she asked, stopping at the bathroom door. 

“Um… Yes. I mean—” Harley looked away, flushing red to her ears. “Go shower! And put some goddamn magic plant lotion on yer arm!” 

“It doesn’t work on me,” Pamela said, eyes going cold and distant, smirk sliding off her face. 

“Oh.” Harley wanted to ask questions, but the hurt in Pam’s expression kept her mouth shut. “Have a nice shower,” she said instead, winking dramatically. She flounced off to the kitchen, mentally kicking herself. Who said shit like that? Have a nice shower?

Jesus. She was fucked. Her heart stuttered as she took in the mess on the kitchen floor—she would clean for no one, except for Jack. And now she was bossing Pam around, taking care of her like they were dating?  
Harley grabbed a towel and started mopping up the spilled coffee, Nightshade meowing at her side. But the cat’s pleas fell on deaf ears, as the moment the two women had shared kneeling together replayed itself in her mind. Pamela was beautiful, not despite her scars but because of them, and it truly tore at her heart to think she didn’t see that—or worse, that she thought others would despise her for them. God, as she looked at the magnificent woman before her, she had to bite her tongue from saying three very dangerous words. She scrubbed harder at the floor, grateful it was dark word and the stain wasn’t too noticeable. Once she mopped up all the coffee, she tossed the towel in the sink and started picking up the pieces of shattered glass, occasionally cursing when one stabbed her finger. 

“Okay, where’s your food?” Harley asked, stretching as she spoke to Nightshade. The cat meowed and stalked over to a cabinet, looking at it meaningfully. Harley opened it, found the bag of cat food, and poured some in a mug—she couldn’t find any bowls. Nightshade squinted at her, and Harley flipped the cat off and left the kitchen. 

“You alright in there?” she called, knocking on the bathroom door. 

“I’m great, want to come in?” Pamela answered, and Harley could hear the laughter in her voice. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Harley replied, tucking her chin to her chest. Taking a shower with Pamela sounded… damn, really nice. But seeing the woman soaking wet and naked would crumble what little self-control she had left, so she walked back to the kitchen, grabbed another cookie, and sat herself on the couch. 

Jack had said he would keep in touch with her, but she hadn’t actually talked to him since Friday night. It was now Monday afternoon, and Harley was getting worried. Especially with Pam saying that he had shot her. She needed more information. Harley grabbed her phone off the coffee table and dialed his number. No answer. She tried again, then sighed and left a voicemail. 

She heard soft footsteps coming down the hall, and turned to see Pam walking towards her, fiery curls damp, wearing a pastel floral romper. 

“That’s cute,” Harley remarked, setting down her phone and smiling at Pamela. 

She smiled back. “Not as cute as you,” she replied, booping her nose with a finger. 

Harley squealed and batted her hand away. “I ain’t that cute.”

Pamela shook her head. “It’s a fact, not an opinion. You’re the cutest.”

Harley dipped her chin to her chest and raised her shoulders, a frequent move when she received compliments.

“It’s true. So, you said you wanted to watch something?” 

“Yes!” Harley sat up, grabbing the fluffy emerald blanket from the floor and wrapping it around the both of them. “Have you seen Jessica Jones?” 

Pam smiled as Harley cuddled against her side. “I’ve seen the first season, I binge-watched it with Selina while she and Bruce were going through a rough patch. I appreciated how they realistically portrayed abuse, but that also made it hard to watch at some points.” 

She looked down to her stomach, to the horrific scar a permanent reminder of the abuse she had endured by a man’s hand. 

“I see.” Harley bit her lip. “Let’s see what else is on Netflix!” 

Pam handed Harley the remote and pulled the blankets tighter around herself, then nestled her head against Harley’s shoulder. Harley smiled and carefully typed something into the search bar, struggling slightly with the remote. 

“Need help?” Pam asked, eyes crinkling in a sly smile. 

“I’ve got it,” Harley said confidently, looking up Anadasai. 

“What the hell is that?”

“Shit, I meant Anastasia. It’s a great movie, have you seen it?” Harley retyped it (correctly) and pressed search. 

“What do you mean there’s no results!” Harley exclaimed, leaning forward and causing Pamela’s head to slip off her shoulder. 

“You have to order it on DVD, darling,” Pam said, rubbing Harley’s shoulder.  
“That isn’t fair,” Harley whined. “I just wanna watch the fuckin’ movie.” 

“Well, let’s see what else they have. I’m sure there’s something just as good,” Pam assured. 

Harley leaned into Pam’s touch, sighing as she rubbed at a knot in her back. “Nothing’s as good as Anastasia,” she muttered. But she looked through the suggested movies anyway, frowning until she came upon a title Pamela had never heard of. “Let’s watch Mune!” 

“Whatever you want. Just let me get the cookies. Wanna make hot chocolate?” 

“Do you have to ask?” Harley demanded, throwing the blanket off and dancing into the kitchen. 

***

“Ohmygodhe’ssocute!” Harley squealed, fingers wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate and eyes wide as she watched the screen. “I want him tattooed on my body!”

Pamela laughed, tearing her eyes away from the little blue creature onscreen to gaze at Harley. “Don’t you already have tattoos?”

“Nope,” Harley said, popping the ‘p’ and glancing up at Pam. “Wanna get some together?” 

Pam shrugged, looking away. “If you want…”  
Her parents had been zealous haters of tattoos, and while Pamela finally understood that having a tattoo didn’t make you less of a person, she didn’t know if she’d be able to get one for herself. 

Harley read the indecision in Pam’s eyes and nudged her with a shoulder. “Only if you want to,” she said. “And if ya don’t, will ya come with me when I get mine?” 

“Of course,” Pam said, a smile growing on her face. She sipped her own hot chocolate and returned her gaze to the screen. 

***

“Look at the little demon! I want him! Oh my God there’s two of them! This is like Hercules!” Harley jumped up and down on the couch, causing the hot chocolate Pam was trying to drink to slosh and spread whip cream all over her nose. 

“Oh, sorry! Let me get that!” Harley swiped at Pam’s nose with a finger, giggling as Pam reared back, mock indignation in her eyes. The blonde then stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on it, and Pam’s stomach dropped out of her body. 

“I’ll show you negative energy!” Harley growled, breaking the moment, and Pam looked away and laughed. 

Pamela tried to watch the movie, she really did. It looks adorable, the art is amazing, but they’re nothing compared to the angelic woman beside her. She’s enjoying just watching how Harley reacts to the film, with gasps and squeals and sighs, but when Harley screams and buries her face in Pamela’s chest, she’s a little unprepared.  
“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She glanced at the screen, and realization hits--one of the character’s eyes have turned pitch black.  
“Harley, it’s okay, it’s just a movie. Look, he’s gone now,” Pamela murmured, stroking Harley’s silky golden hair. Harley inhaled shakily and looked back to the screen. 

“Oh my God I want them!” she cried, all traces of fear forgotten as she gapes at the fluffy little moon-spiders. 

Harley is bewitched the rest of the movie, leaving Pam to play with her hair and wonder why she’s so terrified of demon-like eyes. 

“Hello, my fine-feathered friend. Would you like to rest on my perfectly hot body?” Harley quoted, wiggling her eyebrows. Pam snorted and poked her side, and they lose track of the movie for a while for a tickle war. 

“The evil elf man can’t get it up,” Pam whispered to Harley, causing another fit of giggles. 

“Relatable,” Harley snickered the evil elf man claims, “Don’t panic, everything is quite alright,” as the world is falling apart. 

“That’s also relatable,” Harley sighed. “My only gift is screwing things up.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Pamela demanded, setting down her mug and turning to Harley.  
Harley shrugged defensively, looking away. “That’s what Jack says.” 

Pamela pursed her lips. “Jack isn’t always right.” 

They watch the rest of the movie in companionable silence, and Pam isn’t embarrassed to acknowledge that she teared up when the girl sacrificed herself to save the sun—Harley, on the other hand, was a sobbing mess. 

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Harley cried, once the credits were rolling and a fun gospel-y tune came on. “Hey, let’s dance!” 

She leapt to her feet, grabbing Pam’s right arm and spinning her. 

Pamela laughed in surprise, clutching her left arm to her chest. 

“Know how to swing dance?” 

“Of course,” Pam grinned, and while it was challenging with one arm, they made it work, dancing around the living room like hooligans. 

Twenty minutes later, they collapsed on the couch, panting.  
Harley tried to evil laugh like one of the evil minions, all high and giggly, and Pam swatted her shoulder. 

“From the diaphragm!” she cried, groaning. 

“You bunch of useless imbeciles!” they shouted together, collapsing into laughter.

“Christ, I’m tired,” Pam sighed, leaning her head on Harley’s shoulder. 

“Go sleep! Do you mind if I take a shower?” 

“Go ahead.” Pam stood and stretched. “I can sleep on the couch if you want to take the guest room, or my bed--”

“Can I—can I sleep with you again?” Harley asked timidly. 

“Of course,” Pam said, a smile lighting up her face. “I’m going to crash in my room then, just turn off the lights after you shower.”

“Okay.” Harley smiled, such a fragile and soft expression it made Pam’s heart melt, then pranced off to the bathroom, Pam’s blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Pam watched her go, smiling to herself, then picked up their empty mugs and took them to the kitchen. 

Harley had cleaned up well; there was barely a stain on the floor and no shards of glass to be found. It made Pam wonder where the spunky, forgetful girl had learned to be so careful and cautious. An image of Jack, beating Harley for no reason, came to Pam’s mind and she shoved it away, clutching the counter. The next time she saw Jack, he would be the one with a bullet through his arm. Or his head. 

Pamela thought about all the satisfying ways she could murder Jack as she washed the mugs, stashed the cookies in a cupboard, and filled two glasses of water. She padded quietly to her bedroom, placing one glass on what she had already deemed Harley’s side and one on her nightstand. She flopped onto her soft mattress, pulling the comforter around her and turning to her side. She listened to the sounds her shower turning on, water rushing through the pipes, and just above it Harley singing showtunes. She smiled into her pillow, closing her eyes. 

Half an hour later, Harley was wringing out her wet hair and walking into the bedroom, Nightshade trailing after her. She flipped off the lights and climbed into bed, smiling at Pam’s sleeping form. She crept under the covers and laid next to Pamela, fingers lightly trailing over her cheekbone. 

“I like dreaming with you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. 

Pam opened hers, brown eyes shining, but Harley had already fallen asleep. 

“You are my moon,” Pamela whispered, threading her fingers through Harley’s, and smiled. She knew she would have no nightmares tonight--or any night, as long as Harley was by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the whole scene with harley n pam watching mune was me last night b/c i just watched the anastasia musical bootleg on youtube and wanted to rewatch the movie and netflix took it off D: but mune is seriously an adorable movie go watch it ! and look up fanart on pinterest :))
> 
> leave a comment and i'll give you a beautiful word 


	7. crocodile tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC IS NO LONGER ON HIATUS !!! *excited squeals*
> 
> y’all… i’m sorry this chapter took so long to upload . marvel kinda captured my heart for a while , but honestly so many diff gay boys captured my muse i didn’t have time for my favorite lesbians :( but now i understand what fic writers mean when they say comments motivate them , bc what am i doing after being on hiatus for months ? writing the next fuckin chapter . i hope u guys enjoy , & thanks for being so kind *virtual hug* this chapter is for @ke_chan and @DreamsOfAbi   
> xoxo star 💗
> 
> okay but horoscopes r so fuckin accurate like wat ?? pam n harley are canonically virgo and cancer , respectively , n it fits them so well what the fuck (& yes i spent 4 hours looking up character horoscopes instead of actually writing ... fight me) 
> 
> also this chapter is a lil shorter than usual but that just means another one is coming soon ! thanks for reading & please comment if u like it ! my tumblr is @oscula_sucre & i absolutely will take requests / rants / endless screaming into the void

"and when i'm at war with myself? 

i ride. 

i just ride."

\- lana del rey

 

 

 

 

Pamela was frozen. The air itself cracked and fell, crushing her bed of thorns. Cold fingers wrapped around her neck, choking her, preventing her from saving Harley—   


_ Harley _ .

 

She opened her eyes, squinting into the bright sunlight. She was in her bedroom, and she must have kicked the covers off in her sleep.

  
Today was Monday, which meant she was off until mid-afternoon, so she could hang out with Harley for as long as she wanted. She glanced to her side.

  
She was alone. Pam got up and walked to the kitchen.  _ You’re being irrational, _ she told herself. Harley was probably just in the kitchen eating cookies, or on the couch watching Jessica Jones.   


On the counter, Nightshade was chewing on a piece of paper.   


“What the hell!” Pam exclaimed. She pulled it out of her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the saliva dripping from it.   


And then her heart dropped out of her body as she read the note.   
  


_ Pammy — _

_ Sorry for leaving you like this, but it’s for the best. Jack called me last night and he really needs me right now. But I’ll still be around and we have to stay in touch! See ya soon. :)  _

_ xoxo Harley  _

  
  
Pamela grabbed her phone without looking at it and called Harley. It went straight to voicemail. She swore and texted Harley, then called Selina, heart racing.   


This was it. This was what Pamela had feared, the moment she had met Harley and seen the way her boyfriend treated her.

 

“What’s up?”

  
Pamela jumped and looked around before realizing Selina had picked up the phone.

  
“Harley ran away. To go to Jack.” Pam clenched her jaw and relaxed her grip on the phone when it creaked ominously.   


 

“ _ Shit _ . Did you just wake up?”   


 

“Yes.”   


“I’ll come over right now. Don’t do anything stupid until I get there, okay?”

  
Pamela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay.”

  
She hung up and then sat at the kitchen table, staring at her phone. Fifteen minutes later, Selina walked in, carrying two cups of coffee.

 

“Thought you might need this,” she said by way of greeting, handing the redhead an espresso.   


 

“I’m not hungry,” Pam said, not looking at her friend.   


 

Selina frowned and sat next to her. “I told Bruce what you told me.” She looked at Pam and saw she was clenching something in her fist.   


 

“What’s that?”   


 

Pam handed it to her wordlessly.   


 

Selina read the note in silence.

 

“This isn’t your fault,” she said.   


 

Pamela ignored her.

  
“Pamela. Look at me,” Selina insisted.

  
Pam raised her eyes to Selina’s and they were lined with silver.

  
“It is my fault. I should have told her how horrible Jack is. I should have—“

  
“Harley made her decision. She needs to realize that their relationship is toxic and he doesn’t love her.”

  
Pamela nodded reluctantly. “I still should have—“

  
“Jesus Christ, Pamela! How many times have you told me the same thing when I was dealing with Bruce and Talia’s shit?”

  
Pamela sighed and smiled weakly at the brunette. “I don’t know. Too many times to count.”

  
Selina nodded. “Save yourself the heartbreak and  _ listen  _ to me. There is nothing you could have done to change her mind. All we can do now is wait.”

 

“Selina—” Pamela started, trying to come up with some kind of counterargument. But there was none. Harley was gone, and there was  _ nothing  _ she could do about it. 

 

***

 

tuesday, 9:53 am

_ four missed calls _

 

**pammy:** Harley, it’s Pamela. Are you alright? Did you go back to Jack?

 

**Pammy:** Please just let me know that you’re okay. 

 

tuesday, 2:07 pm

 

**pammy:** I’m at work now, but I can come pick you up if you need anything. Please talk to me.

 

tuesday, 11:14 pm

 

**pammy:** Good night, Harley. I hope you’re okay. 

 

wednesday, 8:05 am 

 

**pammy:** Hey Harley. It’s been nearly twenty four hours since you left. Are you getting my calls and texts? Please just let me know that you’re safe and eating enough.

 

thursday, 2:58 am 

_ three missed calls  _

 

**pammy:** harley, ai miss you. come bakc to me?

 

**pammy:** fkuck.

 

**pammy:** how could you choose jack ovetr me? i thought you loved me i thought we dwere good

 

thursday, 10:22 am 

 

**pammy:** Harley, I’m so sorry about last night. I had too much to drink and should have turned off my phone. But that’s no excuse. Are you alright? I do miss you. 

 

**pammy:** Well, I suppose this is goodbye. I just wish I could see you once last time before we call it off.

 

_ Friday _

 

Harley sat at her makeup counter in Gotham’s Finest, staring at her phone. Her thumbs hovered over the screen and she laughed joylessly at the irony of the night: exactly a week ago she had sat at this very vanity, getting ready for a show that would change her life. And seven days later, the woman who had walked into her life was now walking out.

_ T _

_ hat’s a lie,  _ a small voice in her head said.  _ You’re the one who ran away and then ignored her for a week.  _

 

“Yes, but I have a boyfriend and we love each other. I can’t feel this way for her, it—”  _ it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.  _

 

Harley scowled at her reflection in the mirror and set her phone on the counter. She knew she had to say something to Pamela, but she didn’t have the strength—

 

“Harley!” Jack shouted, shoving the dressing room door open and stomping up to her, grabbing her phone off the counter. 

 

“Hey, that’s mine!” Harley exclaimed, standing up and grabbing for it. He shoved his forearm into her throat and started walking towards the door, ignorant or just not caring that Harley had collapsed onto her chair, gasping for breath. 

 

“And I need to call Cobblepot. Shut the fuck—” Jack went still, eyes wide as he stared at her phone’s glowing screen.  _ Shit.  _

 

“It’s not—”

 

“Why the fuck are you talking to that woman,”Jack growled, stalking back over to Harley, faces inches apart. 

 

Harley bit her lip, wanting to tell her Puddin’ the truth but not knowing what answer would get her in the least trouble. She never got the chance.

 

Jack struck her across the face with the phone, shouting something incomprehensible. 

 

For the first time since they’d been dating, Harley tried to fight back, standing up and raising her arms. “Jack, stop,” she begged, face numb from the shock, hands shaking. 

 

“You ungrateful  _ bitch,”  _ he replied, grabbing her by the throat and hurling her phone across the room, where it crashed into Candi’s mirror and shattered it. 

 

He squeezed until her breaths came in short gasps and black sparks swam in her vision. “Please,” she croaked. 

 

He slammed his teeth against hers, and the world went black. 

 

***

 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please give a  _ generous  _ welcome to the provocative, the sensational Harley Quinn!” 

 

Harley stepped out onto the stage, and Pamela couldn’t contain her gasp. She was sitting at the shadowed bar in disguise: a long black wig, sunglasses, and civilian clothes, and she hoped it would be enough to prevent Jack or any of his goons from noticing her before she could talk to Harley. 

 

The girl was wearing a strange outfit for a stripper, more modest than any Pamela had seen her wear: skintight leather pants, one leg red and one leg black (Jack’s colors, she realized with a shudder) and a leather jacket, fully zipped up. She strode to the center of the stage, white lights illuminating her like lightning. Pamela dragged her gaze from her heeled boots to Harley’s bruised neck, trying to understand why she wasn’t in her usual skimpy tulle and ribbons when Harley unzipped the jacket and— _ oh.  _

 

She was wearing nothing underneath, and Pamela’s mouth dropped open. Harley was  _ beautiful,  _ all toned stomach, low-slung pants that barely covered her full hips, and a cute little belly button  _ with a ruby piercing.  _ She swiftly dropped her gaze as the girl—no, woman, there was nothing about those breasts that was prepubescent—started dancing. And had to squeeze the glass in her hand to keep from swinging at the men who began jeering. 

 

“Give us a show, hon!”

 

“Nice tits!”

 

“How much for a  _ private  _ show?”

 

And on and on. Pamela’s face burned with rage and the glass in her hand creaked. She quickly set it down on the bar and hoped it was too dark for anyone to notice the crack running down the side. 

 

Harley seemed oblivious.  _ She was used to it,  _ Pamela realized with a shudder. This beautiful, kind young woman had become so desensitized to the cruelties of men that she not only was accustomed to their catcalls and unwelcome advances, she  _ expected  _ them. 

 

She clenched her jaw and lifted her gaze to the stage. Harley was still topless, but had pulled a harlequin mask out of nowhere and was spinning on the pole, grinning devilishly. Pamela choked. It was one thing for Harley to love dancing, and do it for a living. It was another for her to be in the control of Jack Napier and wear his bruises like battle scars every time she walked onstage. 

 

Pamela watched as Harley finished the number by dropping into the splits, and the memory of Harley falling into the middle splits to impress her--even though she hurt herself--shot through her.  _ Oh Harley,  _ Pam thought to herself.  _ How did you end up here?  _

 

***   
  


Harley dropped into her splits with a barely concealed groan, her smile trembling.  _ Everything  _ hurt, and she hadn’t woken up in time to apply her concealer thick enough to cover all the new bruises she’d gained this week.  _ God,  _ she wished Pamela was here. She leapt to her feet and curtsied, to thunderous jeers and applause. She grabbed her jacket from where she had tossed it backstage and tore off the harlequin mask, not caring if it smeared her makeup, then wandered around the club crowds, not admitting to herself that she was avoiding Jack. 

 

If only Pamela was here, she could wrap her in her strong, warm embrace and never let Harley go. She could give her that magical ointment her brilliant mind had created, and they could make waffles and watch cartoons and pretend like nothing had ever happened. 

 

But Harley had made a choice, and now that Jack had broken her phone, she had no way to even contact the redhead. 

 

She scurried away from wandering hands grabbing at her ass and ended up at the bar, smiling weakly at Lexi, who was washing dirty glasses behind the counter. 

 

“I’ll have the usual,” she said, shouting slightly to be heard above the echoing bass music. Every Friday night after Harley opened, there was half an hour of club dancing before the next girl went on. 

 

“Of course. You were amazing up there,” Lexi said, setting her rag down. “I get how you caught the boss.” 

 

Harley nodded and laughed, and hoped the brunette hadn’t notice the cringe that pulled her mouth down temporarily. 

 

But Lexi just smiled and turned around to make her drink. 

 

“Next one’s on me,” a strangely familiar voice said. 

 

“I’m good, thank— _ Pammy!”  _ Harley squealed, turning to see the billionaire sitting a seat away from her, scarlet lips pulled into a saccharine smile. She was wearing a dark wig and huge sunglasses, but Harley would recognize that stunning figure and luscious smile anywhere. 

 

Harley leapt off her seat and hurled herself into Pamela’s arms, half-sobbing and half-laughing. “I missed you so much,” she gasped, face buried in Pamela’s shoulder. 

 

Pamela just held her tighter, chin resting on the top of Harley’s head, and they stayed like that for a long moment. 

 

Then Harley pulled away, and reality crashed upon them. “You can’t be here,” she hissed, glancing around for her green-haired boyfriend and hoping no one had heard her scream “Pammy.” 

 

“I told you I was coming tonight. I wan—wanted to see you one last time,” Pamela said, dark eyes searching Harley’s. 

 

“My phone d-died, I didn’t see it,” Harley lied, blinking, and she  _ knew  _ Pamela could see right through her, but goddess that she was she didn’t push it. “Come on, let’s go outside.” She grabbed Pamela’s hand and yanked her towards a door, shoving through the writhing crowd. Lexi watched them go, gray eyes curious. 

 

Once they were out the back exit, in a dark, freezing alley that smelled like blood and shit and beer, Pamela turned her big brown eyes on Harley, who zipped up her jacket so she didn’t feel naked. (She had also imagined taking off her shirt in front of Pamela would happen in a  _ very  _ different scenario. 

 

“I will never give you up—unless you ask me to. Whatever you want, I respect. But we need to communicate. Do you want me out of your life, Harley?”

 

“No!” Harley exclaimed, stepping closer to Pamela, eyes flicking to her full mouth. “God, no. Not talkin’ to ya this week was so hard. But... Jack needs me.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Christ, Gotham wasn’t supposed to get this cold in the summer. 

 

Pamela exhaled heavily. “Harley, I—” 

 

The club door banged open, and the two women jumped and turned to Tiny, who stood there with a grim expression on his face. Pamela’s hand had gone to her waist, and a part of Harley (that wasn’t freaking out) wondered if Pam had brought a gun. 

 

“Harley. Jack’s looking for you. And he isn’t in a good mood.” 

 

He glanced to Pamela, but didn’t say anything, and Harley swallowed nervously and prayed that he hadn’t recognized her friend. “Alright, Carol, I’ll see ya around,” Harley said quickly, following Tiny inside. 

 

“Wait,” Pamela protested, reaching for the blonde. But Harley was gone, leaving Pamela staring at a gray door, smelling shit and blood and beer. 

 

***

 

Harley walked cautiously into the dressing room, afraid of what she would find. And still, she gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Lexi was on the floor, blood pooling from a cut on her forehead, eyes closed and hopefully just unconscious. 

 

Jack stood above her, staring at the bloody knife in his hands with idle curiosity. He licked it, then looked up, lips curling as he took in Harley’s trembling form. 

 

“You see, this is what happens when you girls lie to me. Somebody gets hurt. Alexis here thought she could protect you, say you weren’t talking to no one at the bar. But my men saw you, you  _ whore.” _

 

Jack suddenly threw the knife, and it whizzed an inch past Harley’s ear, embedding itself in the door. 

 

She squeaked and backed away, but he followed. “Am I not enough for you, Harley?” he demanded, voice dangerously low. 

 

Usually, Harley would immediately deny him, fall on her knees for forgiveness and cry for him to take her back. But not this time. Pamela, and the scars she had overcome had taught her something about bravery she had never understood before. So she bit her lip and stared at him, not saying a word. 

 

“I  _ asked you a question, Harley,”  _ he hissed, striding up to her and shoving her against the door, towering above her. 

 

“I know about you and Crystal,” she blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth.  _ Why did you say that you idiot-- _

 

“What did you say,” he said flatly, eyes going snake-like and cold. 

 

She kept a hand over her mouth, shaking her head minutely. 

 

To her shock, Jack’s blue-green eyes became shiny with tears. He pulled a gun from his waistband, and she screamed. 

 

“Shh,” he murmured, reaching up to stroke her cheek. She flinched, and he chuckled darkly and handed her the gun, dangerously, suspiciously calm.

 

“Shoot yourself,” he said.

 

"What?" Harley stared at him, more terrified than she’d ever been. The gun was cold in her hand. 

 

"Shoot yourself in the fucking head, Harley, or I'll kill myself!” he turned and grabbed another gun out of her dresser drawer. “You know I can't live without you. We both might as well die, if you're in love with someone else. You go first." He's got tears leaking from his eyes and a gun under his chin. 

 

"What the fuck, Jack, I—" 

 

"Do it!" he bellowed, face contorting and spit flying, rushing into her face until all she saw was bloodshot eyes and blue veins and she screamed and pulled the trigger.

 

***

 

Pamela sat in the white hospital room, foot tapping against the floor. It had been  _ hours,  _ and Harley still hadn’t woken up —

 

_ Stop that,  _ she told herself, and the voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Selina. Her gaze wandered around the room, catching on the pink roses she brought Harley sitting in a clear vase, before falling back to Harley’s face.

 

She looked so peaceful when she was asleep. The cute wrinkle above her nose disappeared, her mouth fell open in a little “o,” and she slept with her cheek on her palm like a child. 

 

_ Which she practically is,  _ her mind said, except this time it sounded like her mother.  _ There’s a fourteen year difference between you two.  _

 

“She’s twenty-two, she’s  _ not  _ a child,” Pamela protested, and Harley murmured in her sleep and she realized she said that out loud. 

 

She sighed and stood up slowly, deciding she would grab some shitty coffee from the hospital cafeteria. 

 

Then Harley woke up, screaming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise this is not the end , our girls will get a happy ending :)) 
> 
> harley's dance outfit is inspired by the 2008 "Joker" graphic novel which you can read here : https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Joker-2008
> 
> again , comments are a huge motivation and the fic w the most gets most of my attention so write those love notes ! love u guys 💗
> 
> tumblr : oscula-sucre
> 
> xoxo star


	8. fortune favors the wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so college has been insane , which means updates r gonna take longer and for that i am sorry ! but i am not abandoning this story or any of my other ones . (it feels like there are 249385 of them lmao) 
> 
> please enjoy and tell me what u think ! thanks for reading u guys are amazing :)

 

"don't you know I'm no good for you?  
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to  
tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'  
but nothin' ever stops you leavin'."

 

 

“Harley!” Pamela was at her side in a heartbeat, pushing the woman back onto her bed. “It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re in Gotham General. You’re safe.”

  
  


Harley exhaled heavily, eyes finally meeting Pamela’s. They were lined with red. “What happened,” she croaked, and Pamela’s eyes locked on the finger-shaped bruises around Harley’s neck. 

  
  


“Um—” Pamela began eloquently, really not sure where to start. “You and—”

  
  


“Jack!” Harley gasped suddenly, sitting up again and straining against Pamela’s hands. The plethora of monitors around her started beeping angrily. “Oh, God, what have I done?”

  
  


“Harley, it’s okay, it wasn’t—”  _ Your fault,  _ Pamela tried to say, but Harley wouldn’t stop screaming and a trio of nurses rushed into the room and pushed Pamela out. 

  
  


Harley started seizing, and didn’t stop crying until a nurse injected her with something sharp and clear and someone was at Pamela’s side, pulling Pamela completely out of the room and slamming the door. 

  
  


Pamela raised her fists, ready to fight, but Selina grabbed her hands. And only Pamela would let her. 

  
  


“Standing there like a guardian angel won’t do anything, Pam,” Selina hissed. 

  
  


“What can I do?” she retorted, but her eyes were sadder than the Catwoman had ever seen. 

  
  


“Get revenge.” 

  
  


Pamela frowned. “She  _ shot  _ him, Selina. Who are we going to take on, every thug he has?” 

  
  


“He isn’t dead.” 

  
  


Pamela froze.  _ “What?”  _

  
  


“Napier’s still alive. Bruce just got the call.” 

  
  


Selina explained in short, terse sentences, and Pamela could only stare at her. Apparently Harley had shot him clean through the eye, but her hand had been shaking so much the bullet hit at just the right angle to miss his brain. Bastard. 

  
  


Pamela stumbled and Selina caught her before she fell into the wall. “I can’t leave, then,” Pamela insisted. “There’s no way I’m leaving her.” 

  
  


“I was worried you’d say that,” Selina said, lips quirking up sadly. “We could use you out there.” 

  
  


“Does Bruce know about this?” 

  
  


“Know what?” Selina asked sweetly. 

  
  


“That you’re crusading against Jack—and trying to drag me along.” 

  
  


“He started it,” Selina scowled. “Well. I’m going to head out before he realizes I’m not at the mansion. Stay safe, Pam. Let me know if she—” 

  
  


“I will,” Pam said, squeezing Selina’s shoulder. Selina nodded and walked away, vanishing as silently as a black cat. 

  
  


Pam stared after her, biting her lip. The night before had been a nightmare. She had run inside the bar as soon as she heard gunshots, shoved past Tiny to find the dressing room painted in blood. 

  
  


She had thought it was the end, before they had even began--but Harley was  _ alive,  _ kneeling beside Jack with a gun in her hand. There was so much blood, Pamela could smell it, feel it heavy in the air--and she had to clench her jaw to keep her shit together. Blood was blood, and she couldn’t let a little (or a lot) of red liquid transport her back to the darkness. 

  
  


Blood was blood was blood. 

  
  


She had run to Harley’s side, pulled the gun from her slick fingers. Harley was shaking, tears running silently down her cheeks, and Pam wrapped her arms around her and held her close for five seconds. Just five. And then she pulled her up and away, out of her own darkness. 

  
  


“We have to go, Harl,” she had said, but Harley just stood and stared, eyes scarily empty. So Pamela picked her up and carried her, all the way to her car. She called Selina while she drove to the hospital, voice only calm because Harley was still breathing.

  
  


And then Harley slept for ten hours, and woke up screaming. 

  
  


And Pamela found out that the motherfucker who’d abused Harley for years was  _ still  _ alive. 

  
  


What does it take to kill a murderer?

  
  


Pamela used to think an eye for an eye left the whole world blind. She used to think killing a killer left the same amount of murderers on earth. 

  
  


Used to. 

  
  


She turned back to Harley’s room, checked the window. She was asleep again, vitals reading normally. The nurses were talking in a corner, one pulling a pack of gum out of her pocket. 

  
  


Pamela strode in, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What happened?” 

  
  


The male nurse turned to her, young face drawn with exhaustion. “We honestly don’t know. It appears she doesn’t know what’s going on either. She’s been under extreme duress the past week, and her body just can’t take it anymore. We’ve been flushing out the unknown toxins and she shouldn’t have terrible withdrawal symptoms, but they’re still going to be there. She needs time, Dr. Isley. A lot of it.” 

  
  


His eyes never wavered from hers, and Pamela sighed heavily. “Thank you. I’ll be here. She didn’t have any injuries from… last night?” Pamela cleared her throat uncomfortably. 

  
  


He shook his head. Pamela noticed a small blue name tag that read  _ James.  _ “She’s got bruising on her neck and ribs, some small cuts. The biggest concern right now is her malnutrition and psychological health. You don’t just walk out of a situation like that unscathed.”

  
  


Pamela nodded and sat down. By God, she  _ knew  _ that. She’d experienced it herself, horrifically and unbearably. And to know Harley still had consequences to face, even if she never saw Jack again, pissed Pamela off. 

  
  


Harley deserved an incredible life, without any sort of pain or even mild inconvenience. She deserved the world at her fingertips. 

  
  


And Pamela wanted to give it to her. 

  
  


_ But can you?  _ the cruel voice in the back of Pamela’s head whispered, even as the nurses nodded to her and filed out, shutting the door quietly behind them and dimming the lights. 

  
  


“I can do my goddamn best,” she growled, and Harley shifted in her sleep, muttering to herself. 

  
  


Pamela stared at her, memorizing the soft lines of her face, the tangled mess of blonde hair across the pastel blue hospital pillow. 

  
  


Without thinking, she stood up and moved next to Harley, fingertips ghosting across her forehead and moving to her scalp, massaging gently. 

  
  


Harley sighed, stress seeping from her face and mouth opening slightly. 

  
  


Pamela smiled, leaning against the bed and carding her fingers through Harley’s wheat-gold locks. She very carefully worked through all the knots, so focused on her work she didn’t notice when Harley woke up until she tilted her head up, reaching for Pamela’s hands.

  
  


“Hey, Red,” she whispered. 

  
  


“Harley,” Pamela breathed, suddenly so relieved her eyes started watering. She blinked furiously. 

  
  


“What’s wrong,” Harley asked, forehead creasing and nose crinkling adorably--as if she had no fucking idea the effect she had on Pamela. 

  
  


“I thought you were dead, Harl,” Pam replied, and even though the tears hadn’t fallen her voice cracked on the words. “I thought Jack had finally broke and shot you. I thought--” 

  
  


“Oh Pammy,” Harley interrupted, touching Pamela’s fingertips and wincing at the movement. Pamela immediately knelt by the bed so she could be closer. 

  
  


“No, lay w’ me,” Harley protested, shaking her head. “Don’t sit on the floor.” 

  
  


“It doesn’t matter where I sit,” Pamela said, but she stood and sat at the very edge of the bed, barely putting any of her weight on it. 

  
  


“Pam, ’m not made of glass,” Harley groaned. “C’mere.” She shifted over, pain flashing across her face, but she quickly masked it with a smile and lay on her side, facing Pam. 

  
  


“You need to take it slow,” Pamela chided, about to lay on top of the blankets. Harley pouted. “Cuddle with me.” She lifted the blankets, and Pamela quickly slid underneath, legs bumping against Harley in her haste. (Which was because she didn’t want Harley moving much more and injuring herself, of course.) 

  
  


“Sorry,” she murmured, and Harley laughed softly. “Stop apologizin’, Red.” She sidled closer until she was nearly laying on top of Pamela, head on her chest. “Jus’.. stop, for a second. Stay here, with me.” 

  
  


“I’m not going anywhere,” Pamela breathed. 

 

***

 

Pamela apparently fell asleep, because when she opened her eyes Harley had her back to her and the room was dark. She could barely see the indigo night sky through the cheap blinds covering the window, and reached over to grab her phone. 3:02 am. She had a few texts from Selina that she was about to reply to when she heard sniffling and a ragged intake of breath. 

  
  


“Harley? You okay?” She set her phone down and rolled over. 

  
  


“M’fine. Go back t’ bed, Pam,” Harley sniffed. Yes, Harley’d been crying. 

  
  


Pam frowned and laid back down, staring at the ceiling. “You wanna talk about it?”

  
  


Harley chokes out a laugh. “I  _ shot  _ my  _ boyfriend.  _ What is there to talk about?” Her voice had an emptiness, a coldness that Pamela had never heard before--but it was more familiar than Pamela liked. 

  
  


“Harley,” she whispered, sitting up and looking at the other woman. 

  
  


Harley wiped her nose and didn’t respond. Pamela grabbed the box of tissues on the table and handed Harley a few. She took them with murmured thanks and blew her nose.

  
  


They sit in silence for a while, then Harley sat up too, mindful of her IV. 

  
  


Eventually she broke the silence. Pamela didn’t expect what came out of her mouth. 

  
  


“When I was sixteen, I came out to my parents as bisexual. They kicked me out the next day.”

  
  


“Harley,” Pamela breathed, taking the blonde’s hand and squeezing tightly. “You don’t have to tell me this.” 

  
  


“I want to. Please, Pam, just--just let me say this.” She didn’t look at Pamela, stared straight at the wall. 

  
  


“Okay,” Pamela said softly. Their fingers are intertwined. 

  
  


And Harley tells Pamela the saddest story she’d ever heard. 

  
  


“I never finished high school. I had a few people I considered friends, and one offered to have me stay with her for a few weeks--but then her parents found out about me being bi and wouldn’t let me stay wi’ them. It was fine, it wasn’t her fault. So I started a new life, on the streets. And then Jack came into m’ life.”

  
  


Harley paused, sighed heavily. Pamela squeezed her hand encouragingly, throat tight. “Jack was like a rainbow after a horrible storm--at least at first. He made me so happy it was like the rain had never come. Sounds stupid, now.” she laughed hollowly. “I was with him for years, and I never really thought about what it meant when the bad days started outweighin’ the good ones. Now, I think… I don’t know,” Harley sighed, looking over to Pamela. “I got no fuckin’ clue.”

  
  


“Are you going back to him?” The question’s out of Pam’s mouth before she can clench her jaw tighter than a bear trap. 

  
  


Harley bit her lower lip, eyes sad. Then she lifts her chin and looks Pamela straight in the eye. “No. I know that for sure now.”

  
  


Pamela couldn’t stop the relieved exhale from escaping her lips. She pulled Harley into a tight hug, breathing in the scent of her dirty hair, tears squeezing out of her eyes. 

  
  


“Ow, m’ ribs,” Harley gasped, nails digging into Pamela’s back. Pamela immediately let go of her, a shiver running down her spine. (Back scratching was _ not  _ one of her kinks. Definitely not.)

 

“Sorry, you okay?” Pamela rested her hand on Harley’s thin shoulder, noticing for the first time how much skinnier Harley looks. God, the girl needed to  _ eat-- _

  
  


And then she quickly took her hand off Harley’s shoulder--she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

  
  


“I’m fine--are you okay? I don’t mean to burden ya with all my shit, it’s just--nice to have someone t’ talk to,” Harley said, smiling timidly.

  
  


Pamela nodded jerkily. “Of course, Harl. You deserve the world. I’m so sorry--about everything.” And she truly is because despite everything Harley’s been through she still asks if  _ Pam  _ is okay. And she knows immediately that she has to tell the blonde about Jack. 

  
  


Pamela draws a shaky breath and grabs Harley’s hand again--it’s completely platonic, of course. 

  
  


Harley notices and blue eyes meet dark. “Ya sure?”

  
  


“Yes--I,” Pamela swallows, now nervous for a completely different reason. (add) “I have something to tell you. It’s important.” 

  
  


Harley squeezes her hand tightly, sending understanding through her small grasp--you are not alone, you never were alone--and Pamela wishes she could cry but she can’t, the tears won’t come. (They don’t come unless Harley’s making her cry, but the redhead doesn’t want to think about that.)

  
  


“Jack’s alive.”

  
  


Harley blinks, pulls her hand out of Pamela’s. “What?”

  
  


“When you shot him, the bullet entered at the right angle to hit his eye without reaching his brain. We don’t know where he is now, but Selina and Bruce are searching now. Gordon’s got half of the police force with them.” 

  
  


Pamela hadn’t liked the gruff police captain at first--but the first time she’d met him she had been one straw away from crawling under his desk in fetal position and never coming out--she’d been so terrified that Harley was never coming back. 

  
  


“I don’t…” Harley half-whimpered, and Pamela looked up to see she had pressed a small hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wide in terror, and Pam knew she was reliving the moment she’d shot her boyfriend.

  
  


“Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to find him, and give him the justice he deserves. You’re safe.” 

  
  


Harley nodded, but her eyes were still full of pain. Pamela knew Jack had damaged her emotionally in more ways than she could count, and she hated to have to tell her that her abuser was still alive. But she couldn’t hide things from Harley either. 

  
  


She just had that effect on Pam. 

  
  


“You are so strong, Harl. I’m so proud of you.”

 

Harley looked away, lower lip wobbling. “Fer shooting Jack?”

  
  


Pamela frowned. She was in dangerous waters now, and it felt like one wrong word would throw Harley to the sirens. 

  
  


“For standing up for yourself. For sitting here today, in a hospital bed, and asking  _ me  _ how I’m doing. I admire you, Harley. So much.” She stopped herself there, not wanting to admit more than either of them were ready for. God, she wanted to tell Harley how she really felt. But she couldn’t. She had to focus on the present, on getting Harley better. Her selfish feelings would only get in the way. 

  
  


“ _ You _ admire  _ me _ ? Pammy, I don’t—” suddenly their faces were so close Pam could count Harley’s individual lashes, could see the faint freckles scattered across her nose. 

  
  


“Harley,” Pamela murmured, and she bit her lip, knowing that all her secrets were going to come spilling out of her lips, drawn by Harley’s ocean eyes, when the door opened. 

  
  


Pamela sprang back, whirling around on the bed to see the nurse from earlier--James-- standing in the doorway with a tray of food. 

  
  


“Hey,” he said after a beat, and Pam knew he didn’t miss their closeness. “I heard voices, so I brought some snacks from the cafeteria. Harley, the faster you bring your strength up the sooner you can go home.” 

  
  


Pamela relaxed, dismissing the man as a possible threat--his brown eyes were soft and genuine, and Harley straightened beside her. “Sick of me already, Jimmy?” she grinned, eyes bright and voice fond.

  
  


Something twisted in Pam’s stomach upon hearing Harley impart such a loving tone upon a stranger—and a man, no less. 

  
  


“I can go,” Pam said softly, as James walked to the bedside and set the tray on her little table. 

  
  


“No—stay? Please?” Harley asked, just as soft. And Pamela could never say no to those pleading blue eyes. 

  
  


So she stayed. James left, and she helped Harley eat lettuce-green hospital jell-O and squishy fries—quite the combination. 

  
  


Harley eventually dozed off, leaving Pamela feeling quite alone in the darkening room. She watches Harley from the sidelines, sitting on the ancient rocking chair and feeling like a useless guardian angel. 

  
  


But still, she watched till morning, and everything changed. 

 

***

 

“It looks like all of the drugs and distress have been flushed out of your system, so we have no reason to keep you another night. Feel free to take your time and check out by seven tonight.” 

  
  


James smiled at the three of them—Pamela hadn’t left Harley’s side, and Selina joined them about half an hour ago, bringing coffee and donuts (and fruit for Pamela.) She was an angel, and Pamela told her so. Selina just grinned and handed her a fresh pair of clothes. 

  
  


“God, I love you,” Pamela sighed. She didn’t miss the way Harley twitched at her words. But when she looked back, the blonde had the thin blue hospital blanket pulled up to her chin, eyes closed. 

  
  


“You gonna take a nap?” Selina asked, standing behind Pamela’s chair and rubbing her shoulders. Pamela moaned, and Harley’s eyes shot open. 

  
  


“‘m gonna  _ try  _ to,” she mumbled, and Pamela smiled softly. She walked to the bathroom, highly aware of a brown and blue pair of eyes watching her go. 

  
  


She changed, peeling off her disguise from the night before and changing into the yoga pants and sweater Selina had provided. They smelled fresh, like peppermint and lavender, and Pamela took a moment to close her eyes and breathe something in that wasn’t the antiseptic of the hospital. 

  
  


When she came back, Harley seemed to be out for real and Selina was perched in the rocking chair, ready to jump up and out the window at a moment’s notice. 

  
  


“So. You’re leaving the country in a week. What are you going to do about the Harley situation?” 

  
  


Pamela sighed, a hand on her hip. She just wanted to  _ sleep _ , not worry about Harley’s “situation” or Jack or the fact that she was leading a trip to Thailand with the hospital she worked for in five days. 

 

“You’re taking a whole medical team, right? Pam, you’ll be doing a world of good over there. I can watch Harley until you get back.” 

  
  


Pamela nodded, although the thought of flying halfway across the world and leaving Harley in the same city as Jack (who still hadn’t been found) left a sick feeling in her stomach. 

  
  


“I can go with you!” Harley said suddenly, sitting up with energy Pam wished she had. 

  
  


“I thought you were asleep,” Selina grumbled. 

  
  


Harley shrugged, a small smile lifting her lips. 

  
  


Pamela pinched the bridge of her nose, frowning in a way Harley knew too well by now. “Harley, you can’t go, you’ve only been discharged today. You need to rest and—” 

  
  


“And go back to Jack?” It was a low blow, and Harley regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. But they seemed to work, because Pamela clenched her jaw and released a heavy breath. 

  
  


“Fine. we’re leaving next Friday. I need to talk to the nurse.” 

  
  


Pamela walked out, and Harley was elated when Selina turned to her. 

  
  


“What the  _ fuck _ , Harley. Just… God. I’m not even going to say it. Pack your shit.” The brunette stood up, disgust in her eyes. Harley could barely stand Jack looking at her like that, but Harley’s best friend? Selina started to leave, and Harley called after her, throwing off her blanket.

  
  


“Wait, Selina! Look, I know that was mean, but—” 

  
  


“Do you?” Selina interrupted, rounding on her and standing at the foot of her bed, fire in her dark eyes. “Do you  _ ever _ stop and think about everything pamela has gone through for you, Harleen? 

  
  


Of course you don’t, because Pam is too good of a person to say anything. She  _ loves _ you, Harley. And you break her fucking heart every time you go back to that bastard. Every time. And she still welcomes you back with open arms. Just, think about that for one second. And stop taking advantage of my friend.” she stormed out, leaving Harley to sit in stunned silence. 

  
  


What hurt the most was that Selina was right. It didn’t matter that Jack was her boyfriend first. Harley was a homewrecker, taking love wherever she could get it and never being satisfied. This wasn’t her anxiety or depression talking—she had taken advantage of Pamela, taken her love and compassion for granted. That was unacceptable. She bit her lip and frowned at the IV still in her arm. Selina had wanted her to be ready to leave, but there was no way in hell she was ripping a  _ needle  _ out of her arm. 

  
  


But if it was for Pamela’s sake—

  
  


The door opened right as her fingers hovered over the IV, and she snatched her hand back and stared at Pam. “I’m so sorry—”

  
  


“Hey, whatever Selina said, don’t worry about it. She’s just worried about me, like always.” Pamela smiled weakly, but  Harley could see the pain in her eyes as clearly as she could see Selina’s frustration or Pamela’s concern.  _ Fuck,  _ she really didn’t deserve this woman. 

  
  


“No, Pamela, I need you to listen to me. Sit down, please?”

  
  


Pamela frowned but obeyed, bringing a chair closer to Harley’s side and studying the blonde’s heart-shaped face, eyes catching on the cut on her lip. 

  
  


“Um, like I was saying, I’m sorry.” Harley stuttered out an apology, distracted by the heavy intensity of Pamela’s gaze. She took a deep breath and ploughed onward. “It isn’t fair of me to say shit like I just did. And it isn’t fair to you at all for me to go back and forth between you and Jack. So,” Harley pause, tears welling in her eyes. Pamela leaned forward, shoulders bent, and took Harley’s hand in hers. 

  
  


“So?” Pamela urged, full lips parted slightly in nervous anticipation. 

  
  


“So, I need to make a choice. And it isn’t Jack.” 

  
  


Pamela’s mouth dropped open. “You mean—”

  
  


“Will you be my girlfriend, Pamela Isley?” 

  
  


“Oh my God, Harley, yes!” Pamela exclaimed, pulling the younger woman into her arms for a bone-crushing hug. 

  
  


Harley buried her face in Pamela’s shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks. “‘m never leaving you again,” she says, and it was more than a promise. It was a vow, and Harley would die before she broke it. 

  
  


“Harl,” Pamela breathed, palming her dirty hair with a warm hand, and Harley practically whimpered. 

  
  


“I’m so sorry.” Harley pulled back to wipe her nose on the blanket. 

  
  


Pamela handed her the tissue box, and Harley smiled gratefully and blew her nose. “‘m such an idiot,” she said, biting her lip to try and stop the tears.  _ Jack always got mad when I got emotional,  _ she almost added, but she and Pam’s relationship was fragile enough as it was without mentioning Jack. 

  
  


“So, can I stay with you? I mean, if you don’t want I can get a hotel or something, but I—“

  
  


“Harl, you never have to ask that. My home is your home too.” 

  
  


That made Harley cry more, but Pamela just smiled softly at her, understanding the pain she’s going through too well, and Harley went home with the woman she loved. 

 

*** 

 

Pamela passed out the moment her head hit the pillow, and Harley watched her for a moment, then pulled Pamela’s shoes off her feet and pulled a blanket over her beautiful body. 

  
  


Harley had no idea how she got so lucky. Pamela told her in the car that she could help herself to the TV and fridge, or nap with her. 

  
  


But Harley’s petite body buzzed with energy. 

  
  


She needed to  _ do  _ something—to run, to hit—to grow wings and fly away from all the shit she’d gotten herself into. 

  
  


She scratched the top of her head and made a face. Her hair was _ nasty,  _ full of dirt and blood and day-old hairspray. She walked into Pam’s bathroom and flicked on the light after closing the door, mind made up. She’d take a quick shower and then rummage through Pamela’s fridge for something edible (that wasn’t salad). 

  
  


She yanked off the comfortable tee-shirt and sweatpants Selina had let her borrow at the hospital, then stepped into the shower without waiting for the temperature to rise. 

  
  


Freezing water hit her chest and she gasped but forced herself to stand still. She washed her face and hair, scrubbing away the events of the week in the freezing spray. 

  
  


Eventually she turned the water to warm, then her self-control broke and she turned the knob as far as it would go. A body could only take so much self-hatred and punishment before needing a break. 

  
  


And Harley was starting to realize that she deserved a break. 

  
  


She stood under the steaming spray for a long time, letting the water pelt her back, then grabbed one of Pamela’s shampoos at random and dumped some on her head, scrubbing her scalp until it stung. 

  
  


She thought about nothing, imagined the water washing away her sins then laughed at herself for being so dramatic. 

  
  


Only she could wash away her sins. Not that Harley had ever been the religious type. 

  
  


She turned off the water and stepped out, shivering in the cold bathroom. But now she felt clean and smelled like Pamela (lavender and mint) so you’d have to listen very well to hear a complaint. 

  
  


She toweled off and then walked into Pamela’s room naked, a thrill rushing through her at the risk. But Pamela was in the same position Harley had left her in, blankets tucked under her chin and snoring softly. 

  
  


Harley’s heart clenched at the sight, and she smiled and turned to Pam’s closet. She stole (borrowed) a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, slipping them on with a sigh. Her life wasn’t going to be shitty anymore. It couldn’t be, not with Pamela as her—her  _ girlfriend.  _

  
  


Her heart glowed at the thought, and she couldn’t stop the broad smile that crinkled her eyes and revealed the little gap between her front teeth that she was so self-conscious of. 

  
  


A meow sounded from around her feet, and she jumped. “Hi, Nightshade,” she sighed. “You’re probably hungry, huh. I’m hungry too.” 

  
  


She reached down to pet the black cat and she hissed. Harley snatched her hand back. “Jerk.” She walked into the kitchen, hands on her hips. Nightshade rushed to the fridge, meowing. 

  
  


She opened the fridge and stared at it for a few heartbeats. Nightshade leapt past her into the fridge, sniffing at a white cardboard box. 

  
  


“Is that Chinese?” she asked the cat, half expecting her to answer. 

  
  


She didn’t, and Harley rolled her eyes and opened the box—it was cake! She squealed, then remembered Pam was sleeping and clapped a hand over her mouth, taking a closer look at the cake. 

  
  


_ Welcome home, Harley,  _ it read in pink frosting—her favorite color. (Though there were so many colors it was so hard to pick just one--she loved blue and orange and lavender--

  
  


_ Shut up,  _ she told herself, still standing there with the cake box open, staring at what was inside. Pamela was  _ so  _ kind, and she really didn’t know how to deal with that kind of love. 

  
  


If that’s what it was. 

  
  


Harley shut the cake box, accepting defeat, and grabbed a “healthy” bagel from the freezer. She tried to think about something other than Pam buying her a  _ welcome home  _ cake but sitting in the woman’s kitchen, making herself a snack while she slept was pretty fucking domestic. 

  
  


She rummaged through the cupboards for Nightshade’s food, humming to herself, as the bagel cooked in Pam’s toaster oven. 

  
  


Harley was becoming domestic.  _ God,  _ she wanted that so badly she could cry. (Not that she’d cried enough already in front of Pam) She wanted a life with the brilliant doctor, the beautiful billionaire, the aching lost soul. She wanted everything—and the realization hit her in a way that frightened her more than any of Jack’s punches. 

  
  


Because these feelings were different. They were free, and she didn’t know how to make sense of them but they felt true and without hidden strings. 

  
  


She fed Nightshade and then ate her bagel in silence, the events of the past week starting to get to her as her stomach quieted and her eyes drooped. 

  
  


So she gave Nightshade a pat on the head (the little devil swatted at her for it, ungrateful ass) and walked back to Pamela’s room. She could barely make out her outline with the dim light of the moon, and a small smile lifted her lips as Harley slid underneath the covers to lay beside her. 

  
  


“You alright?” Pam murmured, turning to face her. 

  
  


Harley nodded, touching Pam’s hand with her own. “Best I’ve ever been.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey leave a comment and i'll love u forever :))
> 
> xoxo star 💙


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